


burning desire

by JeanSouth



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 58
Words: 29,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanSouth/pseuds/JeanSouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>shorter Kurobasu fics that don't warrant a separate work.<br/>rarer ships. (split from the more popular ships due to volume).<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. routine.

**Author's Note:**

> akakise, nsfw

Kise isn’t ever sure how he ends up meeting up with Akashi after he goes to watch Rakuzan play; he only knows he likes it a lot. Every time, even when he’s in the crowd, Akashi’s amazing eyes find him and stare him down until his heart skips a beat and he has no choice but to admit to himself that this, this is why he’s here.

All of it eventually leads to one string of events that rarely differs, and he takes a train home with Akashi. Akashi, he’s come to realize, doesn’t speak unless he has something he really wants to say. He doesn’t care for small talk, and that’s fine with Kise who can hold a decent, lengthy conversation with a crayfish. (Imayoshi would argue that both Aomine and a crayfish would be equally entertaining to converse with, Aomine would take it very personally.)

Then it leads to subtly holding onto Akashi’s hand when they’re out of public view; his own hands are more calloused than Akashi’s and it reflects their playstyles. Akashi’s content to watch and wait and plan ahead - plan before his opponents even know their own moves - while Kise chases the ball with everything he has. He’d always liked playing with Akashi and combining their strategies.

The main part, though, is when they get inside, and he doesn’t even wait until the door’s closed to lean down and kiss Akashi with everything he has. Kise loves all of his team in a lot of ways, but Akashi sparks this boundless, unstoppable want in him that he knows Akashi knows about.

Akashi is confident though, and knows where to touch a person to make them do what he wants, so by the time Kise tries to get his hands up Akashi’s shirt he’s already on the couch, on his back, rapidly losing possession of his clothing.

“Akashicchi,” Kise murmurs, and they both slow down for a moment. It’s always like this, he reflects; an initial burst, like a greeting after being apart for a long time. Though he doesn’t know how it happened, Kise’s lost his shirt and his jeans, and Akashi’s between his legs.

“Ryouta,” Akashi says back to him, watching him with mismatched eyes. Kise appreciates that even though it’s not necessary conversation, Akashi will say his name for him. It’s intimate and quiet, like only Akashi dares speak that name with unlimited amounts of confidence. “It’s been a while.”

After that they don’t really talk, not even on the way to the bedroom. He doesn’t even talk to ask Akashi to leave his uniform on, but he’s understood anyway. Akashi sits back on the bed, basketball shorts obviously tented. It’s like unwrapping a gift, Kise thinks and he starts onto the bed on hands and knees.

Akashi likes it like this; Kise crawling towards him so he can look at him from above. He’s always looked the rest of the Generation of Miracles in the eye, but Akashi’s strong will is soothing. 

There’s no protest when Kise reaches for Akashi’s shorts, and even less when he takes Akashi’s cock into his mouth. The first time he saw it he’d been surprised, it was thicker than he’d expected, a pleasant surprise if anything.

It takes all he has to focus on the cock in his mouth though when Akashi leans forward and plunges three slick fingers into him. It’s been a while, and the stretch is clearly felt. Akashi has slender fingers, but they’re long and agile and experienced. They find his sweet spot with almost alarming accuracy, making Kise jolt and push his hips back for more.

Kise can’t help but let Akashi’s cock slip out of his mouth then, resting his head on the bed. For a second he remembers it’s probably an incredibly slutty pose, though when only Akashi sees it it’s okay.

The fingers leave him though, making him feel empty and wanting. There’s only one path to go from there, and he quietly lifts himself into Akashi’s lap. He’s leaning against the wall already, so Kise finds easy support from it before he slides down onto Akashi’s cock. It slides home inside of him like it does every time, and he can’t wait to adjust before he moves.

Akashi pushes him back after a dozen strokes though, bites his shoulder hard and fucks him with abandon. Kise’s body shifts and moves to try to mimic the thrusts and get them further inside of him, but in the end it’s Akashi who sets the pace and decides what happens. He knows, so he gives up and grips the sheets instead of digging his nails into Akashi’s back.

With his chest exposed he’s quickly rewarded with a soft tongue followed by hard teeth teasing his nipples, adding to the sensations. Part of him wants to pleasure Akashi this way too, but he knows after they’ve both come and caught their breath Akashi will tell him to lick there and suck here, so he just lets himself go, moaning and bucking until he comes all over himself and makes a mess.

Even when he catches his breath Akashi is still fucking him, with emperor eyes watching his face intently. He’s said before his favourite sight is Kise’s face when he comes, but it still draws a deep red flush onto Kise’s face. Akashi comes too, with eyes closed, and falls down onto his chest.

“Congratulations on winning,” Kise adds as an afterthought, breaking the silence between them. Akashi looks at him; unimpressed, so he grins a little in amusement. Akashi shuts him up with a kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kisemidotaka.

When Kise wakes up, he does it slowly. His hair is out of place and he doesn’t open his eyes, but his breathing changes and he curls to the side. He shifts closer and closer until he’s in the middle of the pile of people on the bed. Then he sprawls, with a sleepy kind of purpose, until he has a hand on each of them and settles.

Midorima is a morning person, and he notices these kinds of things. Kise likes the rainy mornings the best too, when it’s a little bit cold and the blankets are wrapped tight around them. When it’s a little bit cold he snuggles even closer and wraps his arms around Midorima until they’re touching Takao’s torso, and Midorima thinks that Kise likes feeling them both at the same time. He doesn’t mention it.

On the contrary, Takao wakes up a little later than Kise and always gets right up. He wakes up ravenous every morning even if he’s spent the day before lazy. His favourite is soft, warm pancakes with bits of chocolate; the way he’s learned from recipes on the internet. Midorima’s sure he eats a stack’s worth of pancakes when he makes them, but he brings some to bed with him anyway so it’s okay.

(Midorima’s have seasonal berries in them; Kise’s overcompensate and have both types of embellishment. Midorima only thinks it’s a little unfair.)

Being a morning person, Midorima notices these kinds of things. He also notices how even if they go to sleep differently, he ends up in the middle with someone on either side of him. He notices how Kise can’t sleep if he’s not close to someone, and Takao likes it best if someone holds his hand. 

Beyond that, he notices that none of them want to be anywhere else.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akamurahimu.  
> he just likes them, okay?

At first, he knows Aka-chin isn’t really very fond of his new partnership with Muro-chin. He holds Murasakibara when they meet up and looks down on him with anger and thinly veiled jealousy. They never said it; never said they were together or exclusive or that they couldn’t date anyone else, so Murasakibara never thought of it.

He doesn’t say anything about Aka-chin’s jealousy, just apologizes with words flowing over sweet lips and relishes the way Aka-chin tastes like sugar after they've been together.

The next time, he takes Muro-chin with him and practically sleeps on his shoulder on the train ride over. Neither of them know what he’s planning, but it’s not needed for either of them to be told in advance. Muro-chin pets his hair when the train compartment is empty, presses a kiss to his temple and tells him they should go.

The problem between them is that Aka-chin and Muro-chin are, at heart, very possessive and too similar. Aka-chin wants all of basketball to himself, he always wins and he’s always right, and Aka-chin doesn’t like it when he can’t control things because it’s unfamiliar and cold and unpleasant. Muro-chin on the other hand (and Murasakibara knows, because he made him talk about it), knows the sting of loss and of having things he wants taken away when nothing in his power can get it back, and he doesn’t want to lose anything again, not ever.

Murasakibara is privately of the opinion they’re both stupid. Muro-chin, who hovers over him on all fours, marks him and tells him Murasakibara belongs to him and he won’t let him go; and Aka-chin who sees the marks and glares at him to hide his envy, then covers them with his own.

And he just, he just likes them both, okay?

Aka-chin glares with a furious, murderous calm when he brings Muro-chin into their meeting spot and sits down, comfortably twining himself around them both when he gets them close enough. When he introduces them there’s a frigid air in the room.

He’s never cared, though. People have been scared of his size and his glare and his apathy for a long time, and cold dispositions don’t bother him when he knows he can keep going and get his way. He knows they’re jealous and possessive, but he also knows they’re brilliant and amazing and likeminded.

It takes him two hours to get them to start a conversation, and Muro-chin begrudgingly concedes defeat first. He leans over Murasakibara’s lap and doesn’t notice his hair being petted; Aka-chin notices him doing it though.

His hands are big and strong; with his fingers spread when he runs his fingers through Aka-chin’s hair they look massive. Their strength makes them comforting though, gives them both the security to relax and know he’s there as a bridge between them instead of an obstacle they should compete for.

“America was great,” Muro-chin rambles on, doing most of the talking while Aka-chin listens the way he always does and interjects with a question or a remark now and then.

With great stealth and lazy arm motions he gets them both close enough to have them touching and they don’t seem to mind. He counts it as a victory.

Before he leaves, he gives them both a kiss and watches them say goodbye to eachother. They don’t kiss; they don’t even do more than politely say goodbye, but they smile (even if it's perfunctory, maybe forced).

And really, it’s the first step in his plan to have them both.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akamurahimu.  
> loose sequeal to the previous one.

When winter finally rolls around, Himuro has grown accustomed to Akashi. He’s weary, now and then, but he’s accustomed. When they met, he didn’t like him. Akashi is arrogant and skilled, full of blazing self confidence and the ability to back it up. To someone like Himuro, who tries hard but still isn’t the best, he was the worst type of person to compete with.

Sometimes when they meet, he looks at Akashi and wonders where his personality ends, because whenever Atsushi makes them meet, he discovers something new.

He discovers Akashi is smart and logical when he laments his difficulty with science; he makes Himuro sit down and explains everything in calm, even ways. He shows him why and how everything works; afterwards he seems to forget himself and kisses Himuro gently when he tells him he’s good (and it's the sheer honesty in that that keeps it from being patronising).

It’s the first time they kiss, and after that everything becomes easier.

Next time they meet Atsushi kisses Akashi first, and the jealousy he feels is slightly less than usual. He’s not sure if it’s because he ignores it, conditions himself to accept it, or if he sees Akashi as one of them instead of an intruder. When Atsushi’s done, he makes Himuro moves closer and asks them expectantly if they’re not going to say hello.

Himuro kisses Akashi this time. He kisses back.

Then it’s winter and it's cold this year, with snow earlier than anyone expects it and ice on the streets. The basketball courts outside are slippery and unpleasant; they spend the time they can’t be in the gym together now that they have holidays. 

Atsushi insists on holding them both close in the winter; despite the amount of food he burns through and the size of him, he gets cold easily. 

Akashi provides a blanket when they arrive and take their coats off, a fuzzy dark brown one that’s big enough for the three of them. Himuro can’t help his uncertainty when Atsushi gets under it and holds out a hand to them. Atsushi is always the bridge between them though, the person that doesn’t force them together but pulls them like a magnet. 

“You have a good view from here,” Himuro tells Akashi when they end up closer together (and neither of them remember moving, Atsushi just looks innocent and enjoys a thick candycane striped with green and red). Out of the window, Akashi’s garden is covered in snow. “I like it.”

“I like it too,” Akashi says, but when Himuro looks back, Akashi is watching him not the snow. It’s the first time that they touch eachother instead of just kiss. Akashi’s hands are like fire on his cold skin; they make him startle and lean closer to Akashi when he first feels them, and he’s trapped.

Akashi’s fingers draw a rhythm on his skin, it’s like he can feel where they’ve been even when he moves on and pushes his shirt up. He doesn’t touch Himuro’s neck; Atsushi has a hand there, holding onto him assuringly. 

Himuro wants to look at him and see what he thinks; if he considers the plan he thought they knew nothing about a success, but he only manages a glance before Akashi pushes him down and ends up above him. They’re in Atsushi’s lap, and he watches them with rapt fascination, touching them here and there if he wants to.

This is them though; becoming familiar with eachother. Himuro’s hands can’t contain themselves when they reach for Akashi and touch his hair, his face, his shoulders then his chest, they don’t listen to him when he thinks maybe he should stop. 

Akashi’s mouth is like hot fire that tastes like sugar and candy canes and Himuro can’t get enough of it. His hands still when he throws himself into tasting all of Akashi; kissing him long and slow and passionate until Akashi lets him go. He tastes Akashi’s jaw when he presses kisses to it, his neck when he takes a risk and sucks up a mark on it.

In that moment, Himuro can’t really understand why he was jealous anymore (he does, logically, afterwards, but it’s a bygone feeling). Akashi is assertive and completely different to Atsushi, shorter and smaller and he feels different when he presses up against Himuro. His muscles are less defined, and his hair is shorter. His expressions are different, but no less intense.

And it thrills Himuro a little. Two different, completely different men he’s allowed to touch and hold and lose himself to and he’s wasting time being jealous of them together when they’ll both have him. 

Full of realisation, Himuro just explores and lets himself be explored. They don’t do much more than that; they don’t need to just yet. When they’re done, they rest there and don’t really talk. 

“Is everything okay now?” Atsushi drawls from above them when it starts to get dark and he has to make them move so he can get to the table. He sounds quiet and content, like a cat that got both the cream, the bird and an entire bed in a patch of sunlight. 

Himuro hesitates for a second, then considers his hands on Akashi’s lower back; Akashi who is on top of him comfortably. 

“Yeah,” He answers, feeling Akashi let out a soft huff of laughter near his neck. “We’re good.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akakise, kise in rakuzan au.

‘You’re coming to Rakuzan,’ Akashi tells him before they graduate Teiko, when they’re alone together and Akashi has him on his knees on the hard floor, looking up at him. Akashi isn’t willing to let this go; he’s not willing to let anything of Kise go. Kise is bottomless potential, he’s obedience and sweet innocence filled with lewd glances (hidden slyness, manipulation of crowds and full of people skills), and Akashi, who is always right, will not be denied when he decides that he’s keeping Kise. 

‘Yes, Akashicchi,’ Kise says with the kind of private smiles that hints that he would have gone to Rakuzan anyway, that the order is unneccessary but appreciated. His hair is soft when he moves closer and rests his head on Akashi’s thigh.

When they’re in Rakuzan together, Akashi begins to appreciate Kise’s potential even more when he works him hard. Akashi is not a cruel man, he doesn’t think so at least, but Kise’s body isn’t strong enough yet; at least not to ccopy Aomine’s style. He’s getting there.

He teaches Kise a lot of things, but he doesn’t teach him his own skill. When Kise reveals his copy of Akashi’s eyes, something in his chest skips a beat, and despite its imperfections and limitations, he feels proud.

By the time they win their first game with just the two of them, it's clear the best place for Kise and his skills is by Akashi's side.

After they win, Akashi takes Kise to bed with him like he’s done countless times before. It’s a struggle for Kise to sit still, but he listens to Akashi likes he always has and always will do.

“This belongs to me,” Akashi tells him before he kisses him on the mouth, confident and arousing. Kise whispers a yes when they part, eyes bright and golden and looking at Akashi. Only at Akashi. 

“And this,” Akashi says when he kisses Kise’s neck, his chest, runs sharp nails across the ridges of his abs. The ties that keep them together are strong; too strong to be broken. As much as Akashi ties Kise to him, he gets wrapped up in the words he uses to bind Kise and gets caught in his own web. “All of it.”

Even when he makes Kise spread his legs and hold them to expose himself, he doesn’t stop. Akashi’s tongue is warm and slick and amazing, just as skilled as he is. Kise cries out but doesn’t let go of his legs, head falling back into the pillows. His noises fill the room. 

Kise’s on the verge of coming when Akashi finally lets up and sits up, slicking his cock with the lube he keeps close to hand (just in case). He feels familiar and amazing inside of Kise, in control and dominant when he leans forwards and thrusts, put his strength behind it and hits the point he wants to hit, the point he knows the perfect angle to on Kise.

He fucks him with sure, confident strokes, and Akashi isn’t sure Kise is listening, but he can’t stop the words from flowing out of his mouth. 

Mine, mine, mine, his treacherous mouth says like a mantra, mismatched eyes watching Kise come undone. Eventually Kise stops him by pulling him down and stealing a kiss. They’re both still breathless when he’s done, panting and moving in an animal rhythm.

“I know,” Kise tells him quietly, arms wrapping around Akashi’s neck. A litany of words leave him, claiming Akashi as his own too.

Having Kise say it is a shock and a reassurance because it makes everything real and that’s terrifying, because Akashi never thought he’d belong to someone like this. He accepts it, though; there’s no point in fighting something he logically knows. The acceptance fuels his pace, making Kise leave scratches in his skin and a cry that echoes through the room.

Akashi comes, too, long and hard and more amazing than he’d really expected. 

He supposes it’s worth it to monopolize Kise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> miyamido.

When they first meet, Miyaji is curious. The Generation of Miracles is famous for good reason, and getting their hands on one will surely bring them even closer to absolute greatness than before. It’s not really an issue that Midorima is cold; he can deal with it. The arrogance gets to him though, the selfishness and the rudeness and the all around disregard to his fellow players.

For a long time, Miyaji fucking hates him.

When they get to the Inter High, Miyaji starts hating him less. They train harder than ever and he drives them to new lengths. They run more laps than before and he feels himself being more brutal. Maybe he’s cruel. He just wants to win with his team.

The first time they lose together, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. When he gets home, he rakes his fingers through his hair and grips it tight. He sits there for a long time, and even by the time he goes to training next, the feeling of tightness in his chest and bitterness in his mouth isn’t gone.

After training, he stays for a minute and watches Midorima meticulously practice with heavily concentrated discipline. They both stay late often enough. Before he knows it, he watched Midorima until he’s done. When they cross paths (Midorima goes for the showers, Miyaji leaves to go home), Midorima stops him for half a second with a hand on his shoulder and promises him they’ll win next time.

He wonders when he stopped hating him.

The next time they play a game, they do win. Midorima doesn’t say anything to him, and he’s okay with it. They’re only teammates.

He trains as hard as he has before after that, making himself focus and work hard. Midorima plays more with a team, and becomes less obnoxious. He wonders if he’s the only one who’s noticed the way Midorima seems to embrace his team instead of tolerate it.

The Winter Cup is like a stab to their teamwork. 

They play as a team. Midorima treats them as valuable, and trusts them to be as capable as he is. When they lose, it’s like the world’s laughing at him.

And he waits, but he can’t feel. Rakuzen walks by and he congratulates them. He doesn’t feel anger or envy or scorn, he just doesn’t feel anything at all. Eventually he feels a little (but it’s confusing, because what emotion does he assign to the feeling of acknowledging that they got it snatched out from under their noses and he likely won’t have another chance?), but it’s not enough.

Midorima corners him a few days later in an empty hallway after everyone’s left. He doesn’t say anything. In his hands, he has some kind of strange object Miyaji has long since stopped paying attention to. Without hesitation he pulls Mijayi close, close enough they can’t see eachother’s faces, and he shakes a little. 

Miyaji gets it, then. And he finally feels. They’re the same type of man; they can’t deal with loss, especially not in front of someone that sees them in the light of the personality they’ve cultivated for the public. They’re similar people.

And it’s okay if they comfort eachother.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akashi, autolatry.

I) a nsfw one.  
titled: narcissism.  
rated: r.  
summarised: no one needs to explain it.

II) a more innocent one.  
titled: selfish.  
rated: g!  
summarised: they don’t get it.

I.

Akashi understands the word autolatry very well. He understands where the word comes from (from latin, it literally means self-worship, and that’s not complicated), he understand what it means, and he understands the act of autolatry.

In the past, he’s tried to feel for others what he feels for himself. He’s tried to imagine Midorima, with whom he’s closest. He’s imagined Midorima in front of him, naked, and he can’t compare Midorima’s body to his own.

He likes his own hands, not small and not large, pale and capable. He likes them playing basketball and writing words, or on his own body. 

His own body is fascinating to him. Pale skin spans his chest, with pert pink nipples rising if he runs his fingers over them. It sends sensation down his spine to the pit of his stomach, and in turn to his cock.

Further down, he loves his abs. His skin is soft and his muscle is hard, and while he knows the basic biology, it fascinates him to see the muscles tense when he draws in an aroused breath. His hands cover his abs if he splays his fingers, and he likes it that way. When he compares it to the thought of Murasakibara, whose hands would be huge on him, he doesn’t feel the same way.

He loves his own mouth, and the way he can feel his fingers run over his tongue at the exact same time as he can feel slick heat on his fingers. The taste of his own skin is a little salty but unique, something no one else can copy.

He finally loves his own cock, too, perfectly sized for his slicked fingers. The head is flushed a soft red, and he can explore without anyone protesting or rushing him; he can do what he knows feels best in every way. He loves how he can feel his cock in his hand when he catches sight of his own unique eyes and looks at his face as though it were a stranger’s. No one looks like him, and he finds himself taken in by his own features.

The feeling of himself losing control when he slips his fingers into himself is thrilling. The hand on his cock tightens without his permission and makes him whimper out loud. It’s a sound he never hears from his normal voice, and he wants to explore and examine it.

His fingers twitch inside himself, and he explores to find his favourite place. When he finds it, he can’t help but thrust into his own hand, seeking a harder, rougher sensation. He gives it to himself, finding out what pressure and speed he likes until it’s his body running on automatic; his fingers and his hand going through the motions of making him feel good because he’s done it so often he doesn’t need to think of it.

Akashi lets himself go after that, drowning in the sensations of his own body. When he comes, he does so with a cry and a blinding bliss behind it. His stomach is covered in semen when he comes to, breathing heavy and watching his chest heave up and down. 

He even tastes good.

II.

Some people call him selfish. Akashi understands why. 

He cares about his team; he makes Murasakibara remember to eat things with actual nutrients, and he teaches Midorima some physiotherapy for his sore wrists after practise. He cares about it when Kise is frustrated by not knowing how to handle his abilities to their fullest extent, and when Aomine is confused on how to deal with Kuroko.

No one should ever get that wrong, he cares about them a lot. But he cares about himself more.

He takes care of his body and his mind, sleeps well and eats better. He always wins. He doesn’t care more about himself because he thinks he’s a better person, not by a long shot, and to the plain eye, he’s not a better player than them.

But he is a better player, and he’s a smarter man a lot of the time, and he knows it.

He appreciates his own talents and his own discipline, thinks his own skill is the best one there is because no one can guard against the future. He thinks Kuroko is good when he uses misdirection, but Kuroko can’t be in position to steal before the player even has the ball.

The problem with that, to most people, is that he’s not afraid to say it out loud. A lot of people value themselves more than they let on, but Akashi will look someone in the eye and say they’re not worthy of looking at him; he’ll push them down and look at them from above.

It makes the other teams angry and tense, which makes them worse than they already are. His team understands. 

At the end of the day, Akashi wouldn’t call it worship. But there’s no better word for it than that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gen i think?? tw for implied/actual murder. i don't even know why this is a thing please forgive me

I.

“Look!” Kise exclaims when they get to the abandoned house in the early mists of halloween morning. It looks old, from the time their country first started embracing a western style house here and there. Birches line the side of the house and fill the area around it, their leaves dull and crisp with the coming winter. The small lake that used to connect to a river next to the house has run stagnant and no longer pushes the water wheel to power the house. The air chills his skin. “We’re here!”

The driveway is covered in gravel with weeds poking through, and crunches under their feet when they make their way to the house. Kise’s glad he’s suggested this; no phones, no televisions, no teams, just all of them spending some time together.

The door even creaks when he pushes it open and slides through, catching his jeans on a loose nail. They’re thick but they tear anyway, and he laughs it off to the rest of his former teammates. They follow him in, camping out in the living room with the best looking fireplace.

“I’ll get logs,” Kise offers with a flounce and a smile, dropping his bag with the others and taking the backdoor outside. The rest of them have scattered to close up any windows and doors that could let a draft in, close enough to hear eachother.

There’s a small shed outside when Kise finally finds it, with a lot of damp wood but a few dry logs in a sealed cast iron chest near the back. It’s almost empty despite being huge, and he takes them out. 

As he sets them down, a hand covers his mouth.

“You really are an airhead, aren’t you?” A voice asks him with a tone of expasperation and annoyance, before he’s shoved into the box and the lid comes down. The cast iron is heavy, and there’s the sound of heavy logs piling on top. Too heavy.

II.

“Kise’s been gone a long time,” Aomine remarks eventually when the rest of them are together, waiting after cleaning out the fire. Akashi sends Murasakibara to go check, and he comes back with logs but no Kise. Midorima goes to check upstairs, and Murasakibara takes the ground floor.

A muffled thump comes from below them a few minutes later, sounding like it came from the basement. He could have sworn Kise went outside though.

“I’ll go check,” He offers, telling Akashi to wait while he looks for the entrance. The door to the basement is on the side of the stairs, slightly ajar and dark. The basement itself is flooded with stagnant water leaking in from the lake, coming up to his knees. There are chests and boxes everywhere that poke up just above the water, so he takes to jumping on them to avoid getting wet.

“Kise?” He calls out, leaning forward when he finds a group of a dozen boxes together. A swift kick sweeps his legs out from under him, sending him crashing into the water as the back of his head hits a box. Two strong hands long him under the water, and eventually his world goes black.

III.

“Kise-chin isn’t here,” Murasakibara says when they meet back up, and Mine-chin is gone too. Akashi explains about noises, and he accepts it as it is. Mido-chin looks more alarmed, speculating about strange disappearances. He starts looking at Kuro-chin suspiciously, who merely gives them a blank gaze and a denial. The fire is hot by now so they huddle in front of it, digging marshmallows out of Kise’s pack to make things he’d seen on the internet. The night goes pretty quick after that, tension and stress draining them all.

The heat of the fire makes it pleasant to sleep when they puppy pile together in front of it. He wakes up a few hours later too warm and a bit thirsty. The drinks are in the next room, to keep them from heating up near the fire. He goes on hands and knees, digging through Mido-chin’s pack for pineapple juice.

A sharp, stining pain blows up near his spine. His back feels warm.

Ow.

IV.

Akashi wakes up in the morning with a sore neck but a good night’s sleep, Testuya and Shintarou on either side of him. They’re nice and warm, so he doesn’t feel cold despite the fire being out. The sun has long since risen, and… Atsushi’s gone. When he looks around hard, there’s a glint from the hallway that looks like a puddle. They wake up easily when he makes them, and a bad taste forms in the back of his mouth. Something weird’s going on.

“Don’t go too far. We don’t want another person disappearing,” Akashi orders, going over to see what the puddle is. It’s definitely blood, dark red and slowly drying. Up in this place he has no phone signal, and it’s frustrating. He takes to the attic to try and find a signal, not heeding his own words. The windows in the attic are stiff but low, and he manages to push them open with a great deal of strength.

As soon as he opens one and leans up, the ground rushes up to meet him (or more accurately, he rushes towards the ground).

V.

It’s just him and Midorima in the end, back in the living room with the doors and windows open. Midorima pushes his glasses up, not saying a word.

“So, you,” Kuroko says, sitting down heavily on a nearby couch. Midorima’s posture is still perfect, even after the sickening dozen cracks of Akashi hitting the hard floor headfirst. “Wh-“

He starts his sentence, but doesn’t finish it. Revolvers are great.

+I.

“Finally,” Midorima says when Kuroko slides off the couch, leaving a small spatter on the dark material behind him. They’d all been getting on his nerves since he’d first joined Teiko. Always mocking his lucky items, trying on his glasses… Kise had had the perfect solution.

The marshmallows he toasts that evening are sweet with the taste of victory and forever, and the dark lake swallows up the bodies of his enemies with a glee he’s not sure is real or imagined. Their bags go just as easily, weighted down with bricks.

The taxi that comes to pick him up has a friendly man inside, commending him for spending time in that house all alone. After all, there’s dark rumours about that place.

Midorima smiles.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haiakakise, nsfw.

Akashi is beautiful when they tie him up. He’s always beautiful; Kise never wants anyone to misunderstand that.

But when Akashi is soft and pliant they work together as a team, shackling wrists and ankles with steel and kisses and care. His face loses its tension when they tie a soft blindfold and knot it firmly so it won’t come off. The tension is nearly invisible, unnoticable until it’s gone and Akashi stops having a slight frown. 

He seems to breathe out and let go of power. 

Haizaki looks beautiful too, in Kise’s opinion. When he touches the back of Haizaki’s neck, the tips of his dreads tickle his fingers; they make him smile.

Akashi’s skin is soft and pale no matter if it’s his fingers or another’s, exposed to no one but them. His abs tense now and then when they find a sensitive spot, and the element of surprise makes him tug at his restraints before he can think to control himself.

The soft noises he makes go straight to Kise’s cock. He whines softly if one of them licks him, and moans when there’re fingers inside of him.

His back arches into a perfect arc when Haizaki slides into him first; when he’s on the brink on an orgasm but can’t come, and he can see on Haizaki’s pained expression of bliss just how tightly Akashi is holding on.

Akashi gives up power when he gives up his sight, and he never had shame to start with. He sucks Kise hard when he gets close enough, cheeks hollowing with the effort. When he chokes a little on Kise, it’s like a challenge he can’t resist until he becomes accustomed again to taking him deep.

He’s happiest when he’s filled completely by them, even when Kise turns around so he can suck Akashi in return, slowly fucking his mouth. Watching Haizaki connect with Akashi from so close is incredible, and Akashi’s body is amazing.

Usually, he comes first. Akashi follows him, but Haizaki takes his time, taking a good look at them content and satisfied. He always comes inside Akashi, and it’s a good excuse to take a shower together later.

Akashi leaves the blindfold on when they untie him, sometimes, and explores them by touch instead of sight. He trails his fingers in the raise and dips of their abs, and follows their treasure trails like a path. It’s soft, sweet exploring full of confidence that reminds Kise that given up power doesn’t mean Akashi isn’t still really the one in control at the end of the day.

He kisses them sweetly when they’re done, and doesn’t take any argument when he says they’re going to bed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hayama/nebuya, 'comfort'.

Hayama is quiet. He wonders if it signals the apocolypse.

Graduation is a messy, loud affair full of finalities and endings. Everywhere around him friends make plans for the summer. He thinks they’re just pleasantries, friendships that won’t last when circumstance doesn’t force them together anymore.

His uniform clings tight to him now. When he’d gotten it it had been a little bit big, but he grows constantly and quickly.

Without thinking about it, he searches for his team. Akashi isn’t there, and he easily finds Reo handing out tissues to a small group of girls getting teary eyed over closing a chapter in their life.

He doesn’t see Hayama though, and it worries him. It’s a day where his attention seeking is validated, where there are open groups for him to bounce between, and he won’t suffer any punishment. The sky isn’t raining fish yet though, so he turns on his heel and heads for the court. 

“I don’t like it,” Hayama says the moment Nebuya finds him and puts a hand on his shoulder, turning to look at him with teary eyes and a sniffle. He thinks it’s the first time he’s seen Hayama genuinely upset to this extent. His enthusiasm is subdued, and without it he seems like a different person.

“It’s okay,” He tries as he kneels down next to him and rubs his back gently. He doesn’t have tissues on him and he wishes he’d grabbed a few from Mibuchi (or grabbed Mibuchi at all, really). “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Hayama shoots back though, words sticking on an upset inhale. The tears just don’t seem to stop, and he stammers through an explenation filled with hiccups to explain that it he doesn’t want this to stop; doesn’t want to lose Reo-nee and Seijuu-kun or even him. “It’s not okay!”

The only thing to do really is let him cry it out he realizes quickly, and settles down to sit on the floor. Pulling Hayama to him is easy with all the strength he has easily built up, and instead of stopping the tears flow harder. He holds onto Nebuya’s uniform hard, getting it wet with tears.

He stops eventually after a few false finishes, hiccuping softly and finally relaxing. He wipes at his eyes but it makes no difference when anyone can tell he’s been crying. 

“We’ll stay friends, right?” He asks, obviously schooling himself back into his usual enthusiastic state. He pulls a tissue from his pocket to wipe his nose, avoiding looking at Nebuya.

“Yeah,” He says promptly, ruffling Hayama’s hair. He doesn’t think he can live without these idiots.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aohimu, a series of prompts.

'love me'. 

Aomine indulges him a lot more after Himuro starts staying the night. He lets him bask in the mid morning sunlight coming through the window, and doesn’t complain even when Himuro twists and turns to follow the sunlight and ends up on his legs.

His fingers are firm and confident when they tangle in Himuro’s hair, and his arm is the only limb outside of the blankets. Aomine likes to sleep in, but when Himuro moves he notices it.

“Good morning, Daiki,” He murmurs when the sun brings him close enough that he can roll over and come face to face with Aomine after pulling down the covers. He squints in the sunlight, and tries to burrow back under the blankets. He fails, though, so he settles for pulling Himuro closer under the blanket.

He mutters something vaguely resembling a good morning back, full of sleepy yawns and a tone close to sulking. He steals a kiss, too, as if it’s some sort of punishment.

(It’s not, kisses are never a punishment; even when Aomine tasted like terribly flavoured burgers, Himuro likes his kisses and takes a few more.)

Aomine’s hands trace his skin after that, from the cool skin on his chest that’s cast in the shade to the warmth gathering at the small of his back. They’re a little calloused, but gentle nonetheless. Aomine falls back asleep after he pulls Himuro close.

Himuro always considers waking him back up again, insisting they be productive, but eventually he decides against it. A midmorning nap never hurt anyone.

'quiet me'.

Aomine doesn’t think Himuro is sentimental. He gets rid of worn out shoes when they show their signs of aging. Their fridge is spotless, and he’s pretty sure that his collection of dirty magazines was bigger before they moved in together.

The ring Himuro still has after all these years (it’s a bitter point, they don’t talk about it) should have tipped him off.

The door is wide open when they come home, arms linked together and scarves up to ward off the cold. Lately, Himuro has only been working days at the restaurant, and Aomine’s practice ends early enough in the off season. They have dinner together a lot. It’s predictable, domestic, and he doesn’t mind.

The tv is gone inside, and Himuro looks tense but like he doesn’t mind. His set of stainless steel knives is gone too, Aomine’s giant stereo.

It’s not until they get to the living room, and the antique wooden cupboard near the north wall is open. It has their books and their liqour, but the liqour is broken and the books are soaked.

Himuro stalks over to it quickly, dropping to his knees to rifle through them. Aomine knows what Himuro pulls out as soon as he sees it, and it’s drenched in scotch. The photo album that Himuro keeps, full of memories the two of them have made in the half-decade they’ve been together in America.

And he cries, genuinely cries with hiccups and gasps and tears streaming down his face.

“It’ll be okay,” Aomine says straight away, surging forward to drag Himuro close to him. A lot of the pictures are only in the photo book, the data lost in old, broken computers. “We’ll make more memories.”

Himuro cries though, and Aomine lets him. Mentally, he’s already planning a few holidays. He’ll make more memories.

'zip me'.

“Basketball is easy,” Aomine says, glaring at the mirror. He looks the same as he’s looked since high school; tall and sleek and dark. “I’m good at basketball, I don’t see why I need an interview.”

Half an hour away is an interview with an NBA team that had called him to make an appointment, and even if he doesn’t want to admit it his hands shake a little. It’s as much anticipation as nervousness, because if he does this he may find opponents that’re so strong it blows him away.

“They’re curious about you,” Himuro soothes him, buttoning up the white dress shirt Aomine has on. His fingers are warm when they brush skin, a pleasant reassurance that he’s there. When the buttons are done, he smoothes his hands down Aomine’s chest and rests them on his hips. He leans forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Everything’s going to go fine.”

“I’m not worried,” He protests, bending forward when Himuro reaches up to loop a soft blue tie over his neck. Here and there in the right light it shines a dark amber, drawing the eye to him. He’s too distracted to wonder when Himuro learned to tie a tie so perfectly before it’s fastened up close to his neck.

Himuro just smiles at him, grabbing the black suit jacket from the bed. He holds it out, letting Aomine slides his arms into the sleeves. It’s thick and soft, a luxurious type of quality that’s obviously good enough for any interview he attends for the next however many months or more. The buttons are low, but hide the tip of his tie when they’re closed.

The man in the mirror in front of him looks a little bit tense, but a dark, striking figure nonetheless. Himuro has a soft, cream coloured sweater on over dark jeans. He looks amused, not at all worried. Aomine knows it’s because Himuro has such utmost faith in his ability that there’s no possibility in his mind for any of this to go wrong.

“Thanks,” Aomine says, turning to lean down just a little and steal a kiss. He indulges a little in his own tension, squeezing Himuro to him tightly. When they break apart, Himuro makes him wear a little bit of cologne. He shows him to the door too, leaning on the frame with that same confident smile. He’ll still be home when Aomine gets back with good news.

'shag me'.

Aomine doesn’t consider himself good with words. He’s not like Akashi, with the perfect phrases to calm people and mold them to his will; nor is he Midorima who goads people into progress with harsh words full of wisdom.

He’s a physical animal, and he doesn’t know the right words to convey everything that he means.

Himuro is pliant under his hands; he raises his arms when Aomine pulls his shirt over his head and drops it on the floor. He holds Himuro close to ward off the winter chill in the room, kisses his neck and chest until he’s on his knees unbuckling a stylish belt.

Fingers tangle in his hair, and Himuro’s already hard when he licks from base to tip and back again, fingers idly tracing patterns on his hips to keep busy. He slickens them with spit about halfway through, reaching around to work a finger into Himuro, who hisses and forces himself to relax.

He makes Himuro walk to the bed when he feels he’s done, pushes him down and hovers above him. Guys are foreign territory to him, but it can’t be that difficult.

Himuro’s mouth is hot and wet when he kisses him slowly, moving his fingers back to work him further open.

The first time he enters it’s uncomfortable, tight and hard to fit in, but he persists and Himuro holds his hand hard. Once he starts going, it becomes easier. 

“Fuck,” Himuro breathes, flushes red and breathless, red lips parted just a little. Aomine sits up, pulling him up too until Himuro’s in his lap. He stays that way until they both come, resting afterwards.

He has Himuro often during the night, finding positions that feel good for both of them.

“I -” He starts in the morning, on the cusp of sleep after a long night. It’s still hard to say when he’s not even sure himself.

“Me too,” Himuro says, rolling over to bury them both in the blanket. He doesn’t bother with a conversation, just fluffs his pillow and lets himself fall asleep easily. His own way of conveying feelings works too.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takao/himuro eventually i guess??

“Damnit,” Takao swears under his breath, trying to find his way in downtown Tokyo. It’s a bad area, with people he hadn’t wanted to run into. They’re at his back, trying to chase him down. He ducks through an alleyway when it comes up on his left, and hopes they don’t see him.

“Your back is uncovered,” A voice behind him mutters, dragging him away from the edge of the wall. The movement catches the eye of the thugs chasing him, they turn to come at him.

Takao recognises Himuro only vaguely, remembering the pretty one from Yosen he ran into a few times during the Inter High when none of their miracles played. He’s about Takao’s height and not at all bulky, but he swings a steel pipe with the air of someone used to fighting out of neccesity.

One of the thugs goes down, and the one behind him watches Himuro with narrowed eyes for a second before grabbing his friend. He gets up with a hand to the back of his head, checking for blood where he crashed hard into the floor.

Himuro moves before they have a chance to gather their senses, and Takao isn’t sure he wants to let Himuro go it alone.

Out of the two of them, he’s by far worse at fighting, but his extended range of vision helps him keep on top of the game, warning Himuro now and then. The thugs give up eventually, tired of trying to get two kids to do what they want when there are easier things out there.

“Thanks,” Takao says, letting a bright grin sprawl across his face when he turns to Himuro. He looks vaguely amused, dropping the pipe he’d been using. He waves off the thanks, and Takao senses a likeminded person that has more cunning under their cheer than people ever give them credit for.

“Instead of thanks, you could get dinner,” Himuro suggests, quiet and testing the waters. He looks pleased when Takao accepts without hesitation; they swap cell phone numbers during dinner and agree to meet up again.

It’s the start of a great partnership.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> himuro/everyone  
> i really hate this fic ugh let me die i'm not even gna reread this for typos deal with it bye

“Tatsuya,” Akashi says, quiet and calm and controlled. The sunday morning sun comes in through the first floor window when he opens the thick curtains, aimed straight at the bed. Himuro is lovely; he’s tall but not too tall, and built just right without going too far. His face is pretty, with appealing cheekbones and soft lips. Even his eyes have a perfect shape that borders on pretty too, framing their lavender-blue colour. He has long, slender fingers that do whatever Akashi asks.

“Tatsuya,” He says again when he kneels on the deep red sheets that make Himuro look paler than he is. His own hands are not tanned deeply, but they contrast to Himuro. It’s part of their unspoken agreement; he’ll always be waiting for Akashi when he comes home. He looks sleepy but not discontent when he wakes.

“Sei,” He smiles, reaching out for Akashi’s shoulders. Only here does he call Akashi by his name; in their bedroom where they’re equals. In the past, he’d felt guilty about trapping Himuro in a gilded cage, but the door to it was always open and Himuro always came back. Despite his use of Himuro, there was an unspoken, common knowledge of respect for Himuro. Akashi has an inkling to suspect that because of Himuro’s easy relinquishment of power and how he embraces his own desires without shame, they care for him more. Even if he steps out for the convenience store on his own, at least one of Akashi’s men gives subtle chase to make sure he stays safe.

“Come,” Akashi says though, getting off the bed again with a hand reaching out for Himuro. He’s stopped at the edge of the bed when Himuro leans forward to hug him, blankets pooling around him to bare more skin. They stay there for a moment, letting Himuro properly wake up. He yawns eventually and steps off the bed, looking at a soft red bathrobe. He decides against it eventually and tangles his fingers with Akashi’s.

In the path across the room it stays the same; their domestic atmosphere of kindness, but when he crosses the threshold to the living room he lets go and it changes. The men in the room are familiar men; the sadistic glint of his enforcer Hanamiya (and he’s cruel, so cruel, but no one is crueler than Akashi when Himuro is hurt, so he behaves himself to a certain extent). Off to his side is Kise, his golden boy leaning on Aomine. They’re both skilled, but Kise is more geared towards guarding work than the offensive powerhouse Aomine is familiar with. 

Kagami and Imayoshi flanks them, complete opposites that work well together nonetheless. Imayoshi’s sly cunning directs Kagami’s bottomless power; he prefers sending them for large jobs with multiple people. Izuki slinks in and shuts the door behind him with a well-hidden slight of hand, quiet but perceptive as ever. Akashi prefers him to make things look like accident.

Himuro looks resplendent the muddled sunlight; all the windows in his living room are made of frosted glass to keep unwanted onlookers out. 

It’s Kise who makes the first move, stepping forward while Aomine’s hand slips off his waist. He’s almost as pretty as Himuro, lean muscle under a fine suit. His hands never stop once he puts them on Himuro, running up his sides and down his back, touching him with a gentleness Akashi is sure pisses Hanamiya off.

Akashi sits, comfortable with a drink and a couch to himself. This one is his; he likes it fresh and clean. 

Hanamiya slinks up behind Himuro in the sly way he is, all feigned kindness and murderous intent. His fingers are minimally slicked when he slides them into Himuro, and even if he can’t see from the angle, he sees Himuro jolt and gasp, eyes sliding closed. His men seem to always devise a sort of system; who steps in where comes naturally to them.

“Good?” Hanamiya asks Himuro, voice low and full of sadistic glee when he twists his fingers inside of him, brutally jabbing at his prostate when he finds it. It’s a quick start, but Kagami tugs Hanamiya away. There are lines that shouldn’t be crossed; Akashi is sure that without being stopped Hanamiya would go too fast too much and damage Himuro.

Kagami is gentler, larger fingers slicker than Hanamiya’s. After so often it’s not hard to stretch him when his body is so used to it. Kise guides him to bend forward a little, kissing him deep and slow while his fingers enjoy Himuro’s nipples. It’s not long before Kagami gives up and gives in, removing his fingers only to replace them with his cock. He’s one of the largest amongst them, and Akashi is a little grateful he goes first; it’ll make taking the more brutal of his men much easier.

Every thrust is full of barely restrained enthusiasm, with a level of care none of the others have achieved. Kagami is the reason Akashi has Himuro; and he’s the only one to be able to claim he knew Himuro before he came here. His hands on Himuro’s hips grip tight when he makes Himuro kneel, and follows him down.

It puts him at the right level for Kise’s cock, and his skilled fingers unbutton the dress pants easily. Kise always appreciates it properly when Himuro works on him, holding tight to his hair but letting him control it.

Kagami comes first, and steps away with slightly trembling legs. From his angle, he can barely see a trickle of semen running down Himuro’s leg. Izuki takes over, quick and agile, sliding in with a smile.

“It feels like Himuro is sucking me too, with all this desperate tightness,” He says, and Kise shoots him a slightly unimpressed look. His sense of humor mingled sex gives Akashi a perverse kind of joy, but it exasperates the others.

Aomine steps up behind Kise, hands on his shoulders. He peers over his shoulder to see their point of contact, and it sets Kise off. He pulls out first, and comes all over his face. Himuro’s left eye is closed to avoid getting any semen in it; Kise takes pity on him and leans down to lick it off.

Izuki tugs Himuro backwards when Kise leaves, arms wrapped around his torso for support. When he sits in Izuki’s lap everything is bared to those left; but no one makes a move to go forwards.

Himuro reaches down to touch himself, sparing a glance for Akashi’s permission, and makes himself come. It splatters on his chest and abdomen prettily, leaving him panting for breath. Izuki doesn’t bother with courtesy when he comes, just groans and lets go, laying Himuro back on the floor.

Imayoshi and Hanamiya are an interesting team when they simultaneously step forward, giving eachother a pleasant look. Akashi can see where it’s going.

“Don’t go in dry,” Akashi warns them, speaking up from his comfortable seat. Even if it pleases him and Himuro both, the line in the sand comes when it would truly hurt Himuro. Hanamiya sulks but liberally slicks himself.

It’s not an uncommon sight when Imayoshi tugs Himuro on top of him, chest to chest and cock inside of him, Hanamiya doing the bare minimum to prepare him. He’s always been obvious about loving going inside when it’s just a little too tight and a little too much; Imayoshi indulges him.

Small moans and whimpers come from where Himuro hides his face and bites down on Imayoshi’s shoulder, fingers gripping on to him hard to get past the initial discomfort. He still looks tense when they’re both entirely inside, but Imayoshi whispers soothing nonsense in his calming dialect.

“He wants it,” Hanamiya counters Imayoshi’s soothing words, moving to fuck him without remorse. “Otherwise he wouldn’t bend over for us and suck cock like a desperate whore.”

They’re true words, harsh and degrading but only said in private with people they can all trust. 

“He’s still hard even with two cocks in him, and I bet if it was possible he still would be with three,” Hanamiya viciously continues, starting up a rhythm together with Imayoshi. “Maybe a third one in his mouth.”

Imayoshi looks disgruntled, but pushes Himuro to sit up anyway. Aomine steps in perfectly to the side, hand on Himuro’s chin to make him tilt his head. Hanamiya is right; Himuro always gives his everything.

His hands on Imayoshi’s chest keep him upright, firmly placed there despite his own hardness calling for attention.

Even when he comes, Imayoshi doesn’t make to move. Hanamiya follows him not long afterwards, filling him properly. Aomine takes longer; eventually coming in his mouth. Himuro swallows it down obediently, and clambers out of the pile of people.

He looks desperate; rock hard and on trembling legs. He comes to Akashi when his men file out to leave; Kagami and Kise stays to guard.

“Come,” Akashi says again, except this time it’d back into the bedroom instead of out. His own cock is rock hard too, but he pays it no heed when he shuts the bedroom door and supports Himuro towards the bathroom.

The shower is hot when he turns it on, with a wide spray big enough for both of them. He strips out of the day’s clothes and the day’s tension before joining Himuro in the shower, cleansing him with a soap that smells like strawberries. Himuro leans on him heavily, tired despite his persistent erection, secure enough to trust Akashi.

“Did you have fun?” Akashi asks when he soaps up Himuro’s hair with a shampoo that smells like coconuts. He likes to watch, personally, and Himuro has always been clear in his desires. “You look like you’re not done having fun.”

Himuro smiles at him, nods and goes back to enjoying the hot spray of the shower. The conditioner smells even more strongly like coconuts, and makes his hair silky smooth.

Akashi towels them both dry gently, and takes Himuro to bed. It’s always softer and gentler in their bed; rubbing against eachother with quiet and passion and an air of possessiveness.

All his men can fuck Himuro, but the only who can love him is Akashi.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> himufuri within established akafurimurahimu ot4

“The ferris wheel,” Furihata offers as their next activity, fingers laced with Himuro’s. At first he protested, painfully aware of the eyes on them from judgemental onlookers. Himuro’s thumb had stroked over the back of his hand, soft and comforting, and he’d leaned in to bite a fluff off Furihata’s candyfloss. Melted sugar had stuck to his lips until he’d ducked behind a stall with Furihata and kissed him until it was gone.

Himuro nods at the suggestion, tossing the napkin from his food into a nearby bin. He doesn’t look up while they walk there, focus on both Furihata and avoiding walking into people. The line for the ferris wheel is relatively short, but time passes quickly when they talk. Out of the four of them, Furihata knows he has the least strong connection to Himuro.

He wants to make it work, though. They’re happy together; roommates turned lovers turned family. Atsushi is soft and safe, Seijuuro is strong and sturdy, and Tatsuya is a wild, adventerous thing with soft edges that cushion the surprise that follows him whenever he makes contact. Himuro in turn cooks for them the way they exactly like, and in the next breath does things with his mouth Furihata never knew existed. He helps him with English when he needs it and encourages him to make hard phonecalls looking for jobs.

“It’s our turn,” He says when they come to the booth, handing over two tickets. Himuro’s grip on his hand tightens when he finally looks up. He smiles in a fragile sort of way, stepping into the cart. It moves slow and steady, making the little basket they’re in sway softly. They stop near the top; Furihata knows they’ll be up here for a few minutes. 

The grip on his hand has gone tight as iron, and Himuro’s looking very intensely at his lap. Understanding dawns.

“Are you okay?” Furihata asks, sliding closer as delicately as he can so he doesn’t rock the basket. It’s weird; he’s seen Himuro confident and angry and horny, almost every emotion, but never really scared. He strokes his free hand over Himuro’s tightly clenched one, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

It’s not enough to make him forget; Furihata is sure nothing is enough to make him forget how far he’s hanging off the ground in a tiny basket, but he doesn’t hold on quite as hard. He leans in towards Furihata, resting his forehead on Furihata’s collarbone. 

Furihata pets him and enjoys the view until they go down again, noting Himuro’s slightly shaky legs when they get off. He’s aware of the looks again; judgemental people with nothing better to do. But he thinks he gets why Himuro chose to distract him instead of stop. Their little family is more important than strangers.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kagafuri, nsfw.

Kagami is in turns gentle and rough with him; soft kisses over harsh bites. He tires himself out with practice and takes Furihata home with him; his parents have started complaining he never eats dinner with them anymore. He cooks with halfhearted enthusiasm, lazy stirfries or burgers on a griddle pan, both jam packed with vegetables to fill his bottomless stomach. He leaves out onions and goes easy on the pepper; always accomodating Furihata in his thoughtless way.

He talks about basketball a lot, NBA games he’s seen or fuck-ups people made. He tells Furihata all about the games he went to see when he lived in the US, and the inspiration it gave him.

They usually lounge on the couch in the evenings, and Kagami never asks for anything but he tangles their fingers together anyway; Furihata lays back to chest on top of him and has their hands resting on his stomach. It’s always tranquil between them, with no problems or people to drive wedges between them. Furihata thinks it’s a simple, pleasant happiness that he doesn’t have to let go of.

Kagami runs his hands up Furihata’s shirt, voice trailing off on a recount of a pass someone once made, pinching so hard at his nipples he arches his back and cries out, shock and pleasure racing through him. Afterwards, he draws gentle circles over them with his fingertips as if it’s a halfhearted apology. His nails scrape against Furihata’s abs until they leave angry red lines and he flips them over, keeping eyecontact when he laves his tongue over them.

Furihata isn’t sure why he does it; maybe he likes the differing reactions and the way Furihata likes it rough and soft at the same time. 

Kagami palms him hard through his jeans, pulling them off without unbuttoning them, and leaves them around the middle of this thighs. They keep his legs together but expose him completely when Kagami moves them and makes Furihata hold onto them; he finally understands the expression folding someone in half.

His hole is slick and eager around Kagami’s fingers when he tries it; even if they don’t do anything in the mornings Kagami loosens him, as if he wants to keep Furihata ready all the time. He slides in hard and fast, hands on Furihata’s shoulders and eyes closed tight. Furihata likes to look at him.

The thrusts are hard and deep until he starts making noises; when he does Kagami swallows them whole and kisses him deep, exploring every bit of his mouth all over again. 

He makes up for his roughness with kind hands stroking Furihata’s cock, gentle touches and light strokes bringing him to his peak. He’s never considerate when Furihata comes, doesn’t angle it so he comes on just skin - Furihata thinks he can’t focus enough at that point because his thrusts become erratic and rushed, trying to drive him to his own orgasm even quicker. 

And always, he comes inside, later practically carrying Furihata to the shower to wash him inside out with an almost romantic vigour. The pillows end up a little wet when they don’t dry their hair, but only because of Kagami. Furihata sleeps with his head on Kagami’s chest every night until he’s so used to it that when he goes home it feels odd and wrong.

He brings it up one night, and they talk about it. It’s a tight feeling in his stomach and his throat when he comes to realize that his parents aren’t home anymore. Kagami is.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> imasaku!

Imayoshi isn’t really the protective kind. He takes care of his own, and Sakurai is sure that he’d ruin someone if they touched Touou, but ultimately it only extends to pretty severe cases.

Aomine hangs over Sakurai’s back again, picking at his lunch until he finds something he wants and steals it. Even when he looks at Imayoshi, he just keeps on keeping on. At first, it makes Sakurai feel like he doesn’t care.

He speaks words full of cheer with a painful undertone when Aomine truly starts to make Sakurai feel uncomfortable (he gets pumped, and he doesn’t let go of Sakurai when his arms tighten and his voice gets louder; it makes Sakurai’s heart pound like a rabbit in a cage that’s too small).

Imayoshi finds an excuse and takes him to the cafeteria, pats his back in a way that looks purely friendly - he’s good at keeping anyone from knowing that really, they’re sort of together.

At home Imayoshi is still pleasant and still wears a masks of smiles and polite dialect - he compliments Sakurai’s cooking with a smile. His hands are more genuine when they’re alone, though, touching skin to skin and leaving it there. It anchors Sakurai into remembering they really are together.

He watches Sakurai intensely when he takes his glasses off; he says once that when they’re not on everything except Sakurai is an unimportant blur and kisses him. 

The kisses are strong, hard; Imayoshi kisses him like he has a right to. He trails bites down his neck that are soft enough to leave marks, draws the pads of his fingers down Sakurai’s chest and marvels quietly that there’s so much skill in such a small person (and truly, Sakurai isn’t small; the other men in their sport are just big).

He leaves bite marks on the insides of Sakurai’s thighs, where his boxers will cover and no one will see. Imayoshi is a sly kind of man, and even if he’s not caring he’s possessive. 

Sakurai always feels good when he’s with Imayoshi. He always comes first, if not multiple times.

Imayoshi doesn’t wipe him down with a wet cloth - he does it himself, and that’s okay. Imayoshi does the same, then gets into bed behind him. He holds on tight, like a little bit of care is seeping through, and makes sure Sakurai doesn’t get cold.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haizaki/kuroko sorta?? idk man

“You’re so angry all the time, Haizaki-kun,” Kuroko says, pure calm stillness. He’s always like this, unreadable and agile and incredibly frustrating. Haizaki wants to punch his calm, controlled face through a wall. He tries to and his hands get caught in the bonds holding them tight, knots expertly tied. They’re too good to get out of. “It’s becoming a problem for us.”

Kuroko had come out of nowhere and delivered a vanishing drive to a place on his body that knocked the air straight out of him, by the time he’d caught his breath he’d been tied to a radiator in the empty classroom. Kuroko doesn’t even go to his school. Haizaki makes a face, sneers with as much contempt as he can and kicks at Kuroko. Small, pale hands catch his ankle and press a pressure point until he tries to twist away then stops struggling.

“If I’m honest,” Kuroko starts, leaning forward on his hands and knees to see him face to face. He does it easily despite Haizaki trying to wriggle away. “It makes me want to control you.”

Kuroko leaves; it’s hours before someone finds him and unties him.

The next time he sees Kuroko, he’s unnerved. Kuroko almost smiles.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> murakise, private dinner date.

“It’s been a really long time, Murasakicchi,” Kise sighs when he slides into a restaurant booth a few blocks away from Yosen’s campus. Whenever he has jobs close to one of the others, he makes sure to check in - but this is the first time he’s so close to Murasakibara. The restaurant is quaint and small, not too expensive with a wide menu. He lets Murasakibara pick for him and ends up with more dishes than he wants that he probably won’t eat on his own.

And it’s weird, just a little, to be alone together again. After Teiko was over, they’d lazily kept in contact but it had never been passionate. It was what Kise liked; different from his persona that smiled for the fans all the time, with Murasakibara he could be calmer and quieter and never be forced to answer questions about his motives. Murasakibara never tells anyone about what Kise is like in private; it’s a simple kind of trust.

“Kise-chin is so far away now,” Murasakibara sighs at him after their food has arrived and covers the table. He takes large mouthfuls of the piping hot food; Kise doesn’t know how he doesn’t burn his mouth. One hand snakes between the dishes to cover Kise’s. It’s the most forward Murasakibara ever is with him, and that’s okay.

Kise knows they differ a lot - even when they have a sexual relationship it’s always him instigating it. Rather than finding him repulsive, Kise thinks he understands that Murasakibara simply doesn’t desire it often. He’s gentle and warm; completely opposite to appearance he prefers to hold on to Kise and watch the world walk by.

His hands are warm from the bowls of food though, calloused but gentle. They’re just there.

Kise smiles, promises to come by more often, and tries the dishes. They don’t keep track of who got what and split the bill. Murasakibara rests an arm over his shoulders on the way back to the station, and kisses him goodbye.

Murasakibara is an island of tranquility in a sea of busy people.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midorima/atsushi yep

“It’s nice, Midochin,” Atsushi says to him, quiet and calm. He’s sitting behind Midorima, head resting against Midorima’s lower back where he sits at the piano. His fingers move over the keys quickly, moving from a softer pace into an almost angry quickening. His fingers aren’t wrapped when he plays the piano, and the keys are meticiulously cleaned. The strings are tuned perfectly. “But it sounds a bit sad.”

Atsushi is always surprises within surprises; a childlike simplicity filled with complexity when he desires to reach out and embrace it. Midorima likes it. Atsushi is easy to figure out, usually. When he’s angry he sulks like a child, when he’s happy he says so. His love is expressed easily and in abundance, completely opposite to his own disposition.

Within his simplicity, he knows mathematics and languages, complex plays of basketball and how the human body works - he thinks and speaks of music with a simple enthusiasm that shows him things critics would overlook.

“Why do you think so?” Midorima asks him, looping the end of the song; it’s perfectly made that it can be eternally played again, and he intends to know it without sheet music soon. Its pace differs wildly throughout the song.

“It’s really soft and slow sometimes,” Atsushi muses, the sound of a cardboard box being torn open at the seams reaching Midorima. There’s a soft crunch when he bites the tip off a stick of pocky; Atsushi goes at his own pace. Midorima has learned, slowly, how to handle and appreciate it. “It’s like spring. But then it’s loud, and Midochin’s fingers move fast, and the music sounds like an argument.”

He’s correct, technically, in Midorima’s opinion. The piece was typically written to express its writer’s decay from greatness into insanity - a decay from happiness to anger could easy fit the bill.

“Then, it slows down again. As if it’s sorry,” Atsushi continues, slow, listening to the music. Midorima has all the keys down, and thinks next time he’ll try without looking at the sheet music. He’s a perfectionist. “But then it goes faster again, like it’s not forgiven. When it stops again it just sounds sad.”

Atsushi sounds wistful, like he’s thinking of the past. Midorima thinks it’s silly that they’re nostalgic; they’re not even eighteen, but he misses Teiko too. He misses Aomine and Kise being idiots, Kise calling them all by stupid names. He misses Akashi mothering over them too, when now he's partof a team of idiots on his own. He misses playing shogi against a smart opponent. Even if they didn’t work as a team on the court, off the court they were friends after a fashion.

Hands settle on Midorima’s stomach, big hands that would look beautiful on a piano.

“You can’t possibly be comfortable,” He reprimands, taking the exasperated sigh as Atsushi thinking he’s being ridiculous again. He loops the music again, closing his eyes so he doesn’t cheat and look at the sheet. The hands on his body don’t distract him; they enhance the experience.

Atsushi is quiet for the final rendition, and afterwards he waits until Midorima is done to get up and hang over his shoulders.

“Play something happy,” Atsushi demands of him.

He does.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wei liu + hanamiya makoto; traumatic

“It’s okay,” Wei says, brushing off the coach’s concern. Kirisaki Daichi has a reputation; no team comes out of a match against them without at least one injury. Makoto is its leader, coach and captain. He’s the driving pin behind everything, too sly to prove wrong. “Hanamiya won’t hurt me.”

He remembers Makato from a few years ago, coming into his sadism. He remembers the mix of joy and terror that had held him, emotions warring on his face while Wei watched him. He remembers asking Makoto if he’d ever hurt him, and getting a resounding no.

His coach gives him a withering look, ushering them out towards the court. Kirisaki Daichi waits for them, an intimidating aura hanging over them. Okamura puts a hand on his shoulder when he passes Wei, like a careful reminder to be vigilant. Despite their sharp wits and taunting, he thinks Yosen does care for one another.

The game starts off fast paced, Kirisaki Daichi losing the tipoff. Okamura drives the ball forward in a fast paced back and forth, using his size and speed to get into the lane. The center blocks him at the last moment, and Okamura passes to him. Wei dunks, earning them the first points.

He feels the gaze on his back. He’s a good deal taller than Makoto.

They lead throughout the first and second quarter, only two points having been taken in a free throw letting their opponents have a score.

The third quarter is more tense, and he doesn’t know why. Fukui dribbles the ball up the court, keeping an eye on Wei.

He jumps as soon as he gets the ball, going for a dunk. 

For a split second, he doesn’t understand why both Makoto and the center are jumping to block him.

His side aches when he crashes hard into Makoto and loses his balance; he goes tumbling to the floor first when his jump is broken. Makoto reaches for the ball, trying to get the rebound to pass it up the court.

There’s a small, mocking smile on his face before he stands on Wei’s left hard harshly, grinding down until there’s a sickening noise. He screams, catching the attention of the referee on the other side of the pitch. The game pauses for him, and people rush to his side.

“It was an accident,” Makoto says, leaning down next to him to delicately lift his hand.

An accident.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alexandra/yosen's coach masako  
> ladies getting it on

“Masako,” Alexandra calls out, wandering into the gym. She’s trouble every time she comes to visit Himuro, and unlike the team she doesn’t listen to discipline as often. It’s almost dark out, sun setting early in the late winter weather. The boys have just gone home, tired and hungry. There’s a few balls left on the court that she means to put away before finishing up strategies for the next few matches. “Do you play?”

Alexandra is a little taller than her, wearing dark jeans and a comfortable white tshirt. For once her hair is tied up, kept out of the way of her thick jacket that wards off the cold. She strips it off, tossing it to the floor when she picks up one of the basketball. With how immature she acts, Masako tends to forget they’re the same age.

She shoots from the free throw line when she reaches Masako, and scores. Being in the WNBA never wears off, Masako supposes.

“No,” She answers, moving closer to the rack to put the ball back in. She thinks it seems obvious when she considers the neat jacket and a-line skirt paired with kitten heels. She gets tugged away from the rack gently towards the free throw line, and two arms wrap around her waist, holding up a basketball.

“I’ll teach you then,” Alexandra says, with that same tone of voice that says she refuses to give up at all. It’s an impossible battle, so she takes the ball. Her hands are repositioned for the perfect grip, and they fake throwing it a few times. Without noticing it, Alexandra starts to lean on her heavily.

Masoko knows technique and tactic, but she’s never been this hands-on in basketball. The weight and feel of it in her hands is different to just picking it up when she raises her arms to pretend to throw it. She drops it a few times, and Alexandra catches it.

“That’s good,” Alexandra tells her, smile practically obvious despite the lack of eyecontact. With one last practice, she goes to make the shot. Warm hands rest on her waist encouragingly; if she misses it’s fine. She throws, putting more force behind it than she thinks is necessary, but as it stands it’s barely enough. The ball teeters over the rim of the basket, bouncing when it hits the floor.

“Well done,” The praise is nice, but fingers undo the buttons to her jacket, then her blouse, and it’s hard to think or protest when the situation is overwhelming. One longfingered hand cups her breast over her bra while the other tugs at her skirt, persistently inching it upwards until it’s up over her hips.

“Alexandra,” She tries sternly, failing completely to keep the tone when Alexandra’s hand slips into her panties. Her voice wavers, and she tilts her head back to rest it on Alexandra’s shoulder. Kisses trail up and down her neck, leaving little lovebites on her skin. 

The hand on her breasts tugs down her bra, moving to touch the skin that’s bared. The cold air makes her nipples stiffen, and sensation shoots through her when skilled fingers rub one of them, pinching and pulling gently. The body at her back is warm and firm, keeping her upright and close.

Alexandra’s hand explores shamelessly, tracing patterns along her inner thighs. Her index finger trails slowly along the edge of Masako’s pussy, back and forth until the teasing has her wet and willing. She can feel how slicky Alexandra’s fingers slide into her when she finally pentrates, and she delves them deep before pulling them almost all the way out so her palm rubs along Masako’s clit.

The double sensation is amazing, especially paired with the knowledge that it’s Alexandra. Her thighs tense when she lets out her first moan, tightening up around the fingers inside her. They stay inside, rocking back and forth more swallowly when the hand on her breast trails down to focus entirely on her clit. She moans louder as she nears her orgasm, holding on tight to Alexandra’s wrists. 

She comes with a heavy, shaky sigh and relies on the support behind her to keep her upright. Her clothes are put back into order for her, and she’s turned around when her mind comes back to her.

Alexandra kisses her long and slow, picking up her jacket as she walks away.

“Himuro asked me to stop by tomorrow,” She calls as she goes to leave, waving with a smile. The door shuts when she passes it, clicking quietly.

Masako’s never sure how to handle her.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akashi/aomine, 'seduce'

Aomine is the kind of tall, handsome guy with the arrogant aura of selfimportance that makes women wet their panties for him. It doesn’t work on Akashi, and it’s frustrating.

“Akashi,” Aomine calls from the doorway, quiet enough that his voice catches and becomes a breathy kind of purr. Mismatched eyes flick up to look at him; clad in a uniform borrowed from Mibuchi. With a few minutes of staring, he hadn’t asked many questions. Akashi does though, with only a look. The pale blue and white stands out starkly against his skin, and hangs on him a little. “Do you like it?”

He turns a little, walking so Akashi can see him from the sides. He knows whenever he thinks of Akashi wearing his Touou shirt (and only his Touou shirt, matching it perfectly), it turns him on. He won’t fit in Akashi’s uniform; this is the second best thing he can manage.

There’s silence while Akashi seems to be figuring him out, watching him sharply. 

Aomine grasps the shirt by the edges, pulling it up to show his abs. They draw the eye, well defined and touchable.

“Don’t you like it?” He tries instead, lifting the shirt a little higher. Akashi licks his lips, giving him a look that says a lot of things all at once. Aomine takes off the shirt, slow and easy at the edge of the bed. He leaves it on the sheets, neatly folded while he goes slow.

He moves closer before he starts on the shorts, tugging them down to just under his hipbones when Akashi reaches out and tugs them down properly.

Akashi ravishes him, and he gives in to it easily.

Afterwards, Akashi makes him wear the shirt.

They’re not that dissimilar.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aosaku  
> he's feline, but not quite.

Sakurai always thinks Aomine is a little bit feline.

He’s full of sharp, quick movements that humans shouldn’t make when he drives the ball up the court, jumps like a cat to dunk the ball and take two more points. He has a cat’s intense, staring eyes sometimes when Sakurai takes free throws, as if he still cares a little under that façade of laziness.

When they’re done he lazily hangs over Sakurai’s back and helps himself to food; he goes home on his own, when he wants to, and climbs in through the window because it’s the most inconvenient game.

He looks like it thrills him to hear a gasp of shock when he curls up behind Sakurai under the blankets and has a hand over his heart, feeling the spooked rhythm of his heartbeat flutter under his palm.

Aomine rubs his head along Sakurai’s to get rid of an itch at his temple, puts his leg over Sakurai’s and leans forward until he’s lazily covered all of him. His jeans scratch over naked skin and leave little marks in the morning.

When Sakurai gets up, Aomine does too; he waits expectantly for food and pouts when it’s not there. He falls asleep on the couch again and demands his hair be stroked when he wakes up.

Sakurai likes cats. They know what they want - they don’t judge despite their superior attitude, and they always come home in the end.

Aomine’s kisses are harsh and hard, but they’re reserved only for him, like the hands that hold his hips and almost pick him up.

Feline grace starts at Aomine’s hips when he’s inside Sakurai, creating an undulation that seems like its origin lies in a nonexistent tail.

He’s arrogant, possessive and leaves bitemarks all over Sakurai’s skin, but he’s too arrogant to give Sakurai anything but utmost pleasure.

After they finish he slinks off now and then; to the fridge or home or to watch an NBA game.

He’s smart now and then, too - he explains math if he feels like (though he never does his own homework), sees complex basketball plays and how he could pass them easily.

Sakurai likes Aomine, the man. He’s feline, but not quite.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> himuro/kise  
> whines forever why did i write so much and put off putting them on ao3

Himuro finds himself annoyed on Kise’s behalf now and then. His fans are friendly creatures, but they’re dull, so dull and never see past the perfectly polished shine that Kise has. They don’t realize that even if he doesn’t feel like smiling, he will anyway because smiling is his job and he’s good at it.

Kise is polite, even when he tries to run quickly from them and hide around a corner. He’s the kind of person that Himuro thinks made being affectionate towards his teammates a normality to avoid rumours in the future - he’s a smart person (with big parts of genuine affection).

“I’m sorry,” Himuro tells Kise’s fans, all smiles and the kind of subtly menacing aura one gains from making Atsushi go to class (there are, after all, no sweets in class and that’s a rather large turnoff). “I need to borrow Kise. Could you come back later?”

This happens a lot lately - him stealing Kise.

The empty classroom they find is a bit cold with the chill of winter, and no one can see in. It’s easier than dates outside where fans chase them down every time. He has lunch with him, neatly packed and made. They don’t have practice due to matches just being over, and it’s a good time to take advantage of a free day to bridge the distance between then.

“It’s good, Himurocchi,” Kise smiles at him when he sits on a table, crosslegged with his lunch in his lap. The sausages are cut into little octopi and he rips their legs off one by one. It’s endearing and sweet. Kise smiles more genuinely, less overdramatically when they’re alone.

Himuro sits close and leans on him, turning his head as Kise does the same. His kiss tastes like rice and sausage, a little bit like the cola they have. It’s just shallow and soft before he leans back and smiles at Kise too.

He’s well meaning and kind, serious and hardworking about what he does. Himuro finds it hard to resent him. Kagami is brash, someone he’s always competed with and it makes it hard to look past their difference in skill. With Kise, it’s like Atsushi - a new person he’s still learning the feel of.

Fingers tangle over his and hold on softly. Their dates are always delicate, slow - Kise’s too much in the limelight to be seen as gay, and Himuro isn’t interested in taking it fast. They text, almost all the time. Kise’s texts are usually enthusiastic, with good grammar and a lot of exclamation marks. He talks about everything and nothing, but it’s fun to keep it up. Without messenger programs, Himuro thinks he would have blown through his credit quickly.

Now and then Kise sends him pictures from photoshoots, and if he weren’t so wellmeaning Himuro thinks he may have been a little offended. As it is, he keeps them in a folder on his bookshelf (and one, subtly, in his dayplanner that he sees when he writes his homework. Atsushi doesn’t tell anyone, and no one else notices).

Every few days they talk on the phone.

“Thanks for lunch, Himurocchi,” Kise says again when he’s done, closing the lunchbox and setting it aside. There’s a bit of time left before lunch, and Himuro intends to make the most of it.

Kise does too.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> furihata on his relationship with haizaki.

“He’s rough,” Furihata says. He twirls his pencil between his fingers, not making the most of his break at all. Kuroko listens to him, ever patient. “Really rough.”

He understands Kuroko knows Haizaki, understands he’s worried, but Furihata is not fragile. 

Haizaki’s hands are always rough. They’re calloused, and often grip his arms hard enough to leave bruises. They show up a sickly green, never black, and circle half the way around his arm. It’s unintentional, accidental and not something he minds.

“How he acts,” He adds, at the questioning look. His lunchbox is empty save for a small sausage, and he bites the tip off it. “And how he talks.”

Haizaki is not delicate, not in any way. He says things that could be hurtful, speaks harsh words that sting like bramble barbs. They’re thoughtless and careless, tossed at him like arrows that sting through his heart and stay there for a while. 

“That’s unhealthy, Furihata,” Kuroko advises him, softly gently like a cat trying not to startle a rabbit. He hums an agreement.

Haizaki is wellmeaning, and lets go when he realizes he hurts; he lets go like he’s on fire. Furihata thinks that Haizaki’s own anger is like a flame to him - scary from a distance, beautiful all the same. His delicacy with Furihata is like drawing patterns on his palm; feeling every sensation, almost ticklish in nature. His anger taking it, taking every sensation and forcing it down on the hot coil under the fire under it burns a pattern in his hand and his skin sizzles around it.

He tries hard not to touch Furihata when they argue, leaves the room or sits down, grips hard at the couch and stares at him like he’s reminding himself what he has. Haizaki hates it when someone from Teiko is near Furihata, when Kise comes by and drapes himself over Furihata like a comfortable scarf, or Kuroko watches him wearily and brushes arms with him.

It rips him up in every direction, like every part of their rejection bites at him, over and over until he can’t stand it. 

Furihata kisses him, on the forehead or his cheeks, looks him in the eye and calms down with him. There’s pain as well as anger; a reckless kind of need to let it out but he can’t, and instead of holding his arms until they bruise he learns, just a little, to grab him by the waist and hold him tight.

“It’s not that bad,” Furihata says, leaning his chair back on two legs. Kuroko looks skeptical, but he shrugs. The details between them are for his eyes only.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> midokuro yep.

Midorima never thought he’d have kids. He works with kids, and so does Kuroko, but he can’t fathom having one at home all the time, even in the mornings. They adopt sons - brothers, and he can’t bare to split them apart - one early spring, and by christmas it’s like nothing has ever been different.

They dress in pajamas covered in anime figures on the night before christmas, brunette hair tied up to keep it out of their faces when they play, and they’re exhausted but excited. There’s a tree up, and it’s all Kagami’s fault for telling them all sorts of tales about America. There are presents stashed in their wardrobe they’ll put under the tree soon.

Taro is older, a bit bigger and more outgoing, and he’s the first to jump on their bed the coming morning, bright and early at six. The sun isn’t even coming through the window yet, and it’s a battle to untangle himself from the blankets and Kuroko. He sleeps on his back, blankets tucked in along his side and Kuroko on his chest.

Midorima finds his glasses and slips them on just in time to see Yasuo sneak in and climb onto the bed too. He shakes Kuroko awake by the shoulders, laughs at his bed hair and urges him to get up. They slept with pajama bottoms on, both of them, in anticipation of their sons waking them up.

Taro leads Midorima, and Yasuo takes Kuroko to the christmas tree.

The lights are on, flashing bright and the plate of cookies is empty. There’s presents everywhere, and Midorima stealthily gets the camcorder.

Christmas is pretty great.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> himuro/kise, 'sluts'

They’re not shy. They’re skilled people, toned and tall with every reason to be proud of their bodies. Kise likes Himuro’s body a lot; pale and amazing, with flaws here and there, strong muscles and skilled hands.

He likes his own body, too. He has firm abs and a nice face; his lips are pretty and plump, and pout at the camera fairly often. They’re always soft against Himuro’s - his lips are thinner but still soft, a pretty red colour after Kise bites at them.

“Harder,” Himuro gasps out, legs spread wide on the bed underneath Kise. They’re strong legs, used to running and jumping, but they’re innocent under his hands. They’re warm and go where he makes them bend. Kise spreads them wide until he has a good view.

Himuro has a beautiful cock; it’s long and slender, flushed at the tip. A cockring is fastened firmly at the base, keeping him from coming. The blunt end of a vibrator sticks out and hums softly against the sheets, driving him wild where it’s inside him. He knows how it feels - the one inside of him is smaller but wider, and vibrates harder.

Kise can’t stand when he tries to; his knees are too weak with the toy inside of him, so he crawls closer instead. 

“You’re holding on too tight,” He whispers, close to Himuro’s ear - he has a pretty face too, especially when his hair is brushed back and he has a desperate look on his face. He looks like he’s on the edge of coming, wanting to beg for it but holding himself back. 

Tugging the vibrator out of him a bit is hard; he’s clenched down on it hard to keep it inside of him, and Kise has to put as much force behind it as he can to force it deeper, twisting the dial to make it vibrate harder.

Himuro screams for him, trying to muffle it in the pillow until he gives up and surges forward, pressing close until he’s chest to chest with Kise, pinning him to the bed underneath him.

Kise can feels him start to move harshly, rubbing their cocks together roughly - only the lube he’d used before keeps it from being unpleasant. He holds on tight, gripping Himuro by the waist until he can thrust up hard. It makes the vibrator in him shift and he whimpers, aching to come despite his own cockring.

“Please,” Himuro breathes; they don’t come until they both can’t hold out any longer, but Kise shakes his head and goes in for a kiss. It’s easy to roll them over and rut against Himuro, picking up the pace between them until they’re both moaning and panting. 

“Now,” Kise moans out, fumbling to get to Himuro’s cockring, and feels the same on his own. He comes almost instantly when it releases, grinding down hard for extra sensation. 

“That was good,” He hears a while later, when nimble fingers switch off his vibrator tug it out, set aside to be cleaned. He smiles, tired but content. 

“Yeah.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> himuro, crime

Himuro is pretty; his features are sharp and his eyes draw gazes easily. He moves like he has a mission but doesn’t quite know what yet, straddling the bar stool or a mechanical bull like he needs to ride something.

He holds the cowboy hat to his head with one hand, and knows the shorts he has on ride up when the bronco sends him rocketing back and forth. Through the trashy white shirt with artfully torn edges, he knows the cold air made his nipples perk up when he was outside. 

Himuro grips the bull hard with his knees when it sends him to the side, and his boots squeak against the plastic. They’re dark leather and come up across his knees, showing off the skin between boots and shorts. He falls eventually, on his back, and the bull slows to a stop before a sleazy looking man (his father’s age, really) helps him up with a clammy hand. 

The man smells like cigarettes and booze, rubs his hands up and down Himuro’s cold arms and notes that he seems cold. The bar they’re in is trashy and dark, and in the corner it’s hard to see them. The man walks behind him and corners him, sliding hands up his shirt to cover his chest, the faint start of muscle. His palms rub over the stiff nipples, arousing them more.

“Can’t we go to your place?” Himuro asks a little breathily, bending a little to rub his ass up against the stranger’s cock. He grinds back, but eventually steps away and leads Himuro out by the hand, guiding him to a flash enough car. The seats inside are cheap leather and stick to his thighs, but it’s better than the hand that switches between his leg and driveshaft.

The house they arrive at is nice enough, with all the signs of a man long past his teens but eons away from adulthood living in it. The dishes aren’t done when they pass through the kitchen, but he stops them there anyway.

“Can I freshen up for a second?” He asks again, using a smile to convince the man he’s harmless, and he’s guided to the bathroom. It’s easy to take a tiny pill from the small pocket he has; it’s a coated capsule that’s only effective when swallowed. It sits easily and hidden under his tongue and he clambers onto the bed when he finds the bedroom, initiating a kiss until he’s deep enough he can slip in the pill.

“What was that?” Hands hold his shoulders and push him back, suspicion in the stranger’s narrowed eyes. Himuro rubs a hand over the stiffening cock though, shifting to pretend he’s hiding his own.

“Just sharing something to make our fun last longer,” He smiles, leaning back in close. They get to his ass being groped before the grip on him slackens and the man passes out; Himuro cases the place and takes a duffel bag to put it in. Everything has been too dark for the man to remember him in the morning, and he gets a fair amount of cash and items. The bus stop is close by, and he just looks like another regular guy going clubbing.

At home, he changes to pajamas instead of shorts and makes himself some coffee. Ebay awaits.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> himuro/kise, slut/police officer

Himuro suspects something is up when someone like Kise walks into a dive bar and orders a virgin drink. His suspicion grows stronger when Kise tries just a little too hard to seem like a sleaze looking for a slut, but Kise looks rich and he has bills to pay.

Kise’s house is nice, looks pretty and has a soft bed inside it. He has the roofies in his mouth when he’s stopped and held down, handcuffed to the cast iron headboard and fingers probe his mouth. Psychotic, Himuro’s mind supplies with a hint of panic, before the roofie in his mouth in found and tugged out.

The look he gets is disappointed, and the body between his legs moves to sit back.

“I’m going to have to arrest you,” Kise says, looking like he’d really hoped Himuro was a good guy with bad rumors. His hand is still on Himuro’s boots though, and he keeps looking between them and the handcuffs like he has some kind of odd desire.

Himuro draws up his knees until they hide his face from that angle, but his ankles are still apart and give a perfect view to the bulge in his tiny black leather shorts. Kise starts to reach out before he stops himself, and Himuro tugs on the handcuffs, putting on his most innocent look.

“No, don’t… I’ll never graduate college if I’m arrested,” He pleads, biting his lip. He knows they’ve been bitten red and ever so slightly swollen by Kise, and he breathes hard as if he’s panicking a little. He watches Kise like a shy animal, trying to hide his face when they make eyecontact.

It’s all a put-on show, and he thinks Kise knows it too, but hands rub at his cock through his shorts until it stiffens and is trapped painfully. He keeps up his persona of protesting, leaning until he tips over to the side, but it gives a better grip on his ass.

“Panties?” Kise asks, sounding almost surprised when he tugs down the shorts. They’re the only things that fit underneath, and only protection he gets from the zipper, but he flushes nonetheless and tries to shift away, keeping an eye on Kise with subtle peeks and glances.

“Don’t look,” He implores Kise, but fingers draw between his cheeks over the cute pink fabric until they reach the edge and dip in - they find him slick and ready. For a moment Himuro is stuck between regret and relief at how much he plays with himself before he goes out, but Kise takes it as a bonus and tugs his legs out from under him, spreading them as far as they can go with the shorts trapped around his thighs.

The headboard he holds onto is cold and hard under his hands, but he grips it tight to steady himself against the force of the thrusts behind him, and he lets the noises he wants to make go, crying out and moaning with enthusiasm; he loves cock more than he loves making a living off sleazy men, and he’s sure Kise knows it.

A hand grips his hair and pulls his head back, thrusting into him harder and harder as he gets louder until he comes, and it’s a sticky heat within the panties. When Kise comes he pulls them back up and uncuffs him, looking exhausted but pleased.

“Stay in school,” Kise tells him when he guides him to the door and gives his ass one last feel. Lucky way to dodge the law.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> himukise + sugardaddy

Sometimes, if they let it slip, people ask them if they’re ashamed, lazy, a variety of things. Himuro doesn’t think so.

He kisses Kise softly, a good morning kiss if nothing else, and lazily feels between his legs for a morning reaction before they shower together. The rest of the room is quiet save for their benefactor’s soft breathing, and Kise turns to wake him.

He’s a fairly handsome man, plenty tall with laughlines on his face, and black hair turning grey at the edges. Most days he looks like he needs a shave, but Kise likes the feeling of stubble on his face, and Himuro agrees. The sensation on his inner thighs is rough to contrast sweet, but he wouldn’t ask for it so early.

Instead he kisses Kise again, leaning over the man between them to run a hand through messy blond hair fondly. A hand ends up on his ass, not urging or asking, just touching. Kise’s hand joins it, and he returns the favour.

Both of them are loose and slick from the night before; eagerly taking turns to ride cock until they were satisfied. Three fingers slip into him, starting up lazy thrusts. Kise’s eyes close and he shivers, shifting closer until his cock rests against a muscled thigh; Himuro does the same and bites his lip. So early in the morning it’s hard to keep himself from just coming.

He rubs gently, taking it slow to tease himself, but Kise reaches over to pinch at his nipple, digging in his nail until Himuro cries out. He looks sly and pleased after taking advantage of them - he knows Himuro’s nipples are usually sore. They’re sensitive and easy to play with, but the morning after they’ve been played with a lot they’re always a little hurt and even more senstive.

“Stop it,” He pouts, only half meaning it. Himuro tilts his head to bite softly at the nipple closest to him, and he’s rewarded with a gasp. Making others feel good too always sends a tingle through him, and he grinds down harder in his thrusts, feeling the fingers spread a little inside him as they fuck him back and forth.

Kise’s already long gone; eyes close and mouth a little open, coming while Himuro watches him with a graceless look of pained agony. It’s not long before he comes too, and reaches for the thick cock still erect between them. He’s stopped for a kiss, and ordered into the shower. 

He always feels too good to be ashamed.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> furihata/sakurai, panties ♥

Both of them are sweet, genuine and of average height. He thinks they’re an average sort of pretty in the face, with features that will sharpen with age and hair that’s styled with the least amount of effort in the mornings.

Sakurai has thinner thighs - the stockings on them are black with blue lace trim, held by pretty straps to the garter belt above his hips. They’re thin hips, and the garter belt is a tight, black type.

The panties under them are cute and black, with a ribbon on the front. He’s stiff underneath them, cock hidden from sight but obviously there. They seem almost too small, teasing at the edge of his balls so he stands and walks delicately.

Furihata on the other hand is just as shy - unused to dressing up, but as sweet as Sakurai and more confident. Instead of a black garter belt his is a soft off-white colour, highlighted against his skin and covered in extensive embroidery.

The straps on them reach down to innocent white stockings, but they slip under a delicate skirt made to show rather than cover. Sweet red panties have a bow at the back, just above his tailbone. They hold them together where an artistic loveheart shape teases to show his ass; when he bends it’s visible.

“Kiss,” He says, and Furihata has to make the first move, kissing softly and delicately over Sakurai’s closed lips. Their mouths are quickly kiss swollen when they let go and kiss properly, lips bitten and tugged on until they colour a little.

“Touch him,” He tries second, watching Sakurai’s hands surpisingly listen and move first to tease and pinch at Furihata’s nipples. They’re sweet and stiff, begging to be pinched. For a moment he considers how they’d look nice with clamps on them, but their first time is delicate and slow, without embellishment or help.

Furihata almost kneels, urging Sakurai to sit on the bed as his mouth latches onto one nipple, his hands sliding up Sakurai’s thighs to fondle his cock through the fabric of his panties. It twitches when he touches it, jerking in anticipation. Neither of them are really confident enough to top the other, but Furihata rises a little anyway.

He urges Sakurai further up the bed, head near the pillows and legs spread obediently. The panties are almost taken off - hands hesitate and linger near them waiting for permission or denial, but without either they leave them as they are.

The tip of Sakurai’s cock peeks out from above them, slender and flushes at the head. Furihata’s is hidden under the skirt, untouched until Sakurai takes the chance to feel under it, lifting the tiny skirt to take a good look. From there he tugs Sakurai down, rubbing their cocks together.

With Furihata between his legs he can grind properly, and muffles the noises he makes by biting gently at his neck. He whimpers and moans in turns, holding on for dear life when he pushes up hard and sets their rhythm.

It’s a quick, hard grind and Furihata’s head tilts back; he bites his lip hard when one of his nipples grazes Sakurai’s. Keening noises come from them both as they rock against eachother until Furihata gives up and buries his face in the pillow next to Sakurai’s head, grinding down hard when he comes. Sakurai follows soon after, nails digging patterns into Furihata’s hips.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hayamiya next door neighbours trope

Hayama is a royal pain the ass. He’s surprisingly large for a neverending bundle of energy, annoyingly loud at stupid hours of the morning, and perpetually persistent. Miyaji thinks he couldn’t have ended up next to a worse neighbour if he’d tried.

The second day he’s moving in, Hayama comes over to introduce himself and brings a tin full of biscuits. For a long while during the introduction, Miyaji isn’t aware yet of the disaster that lays in wait of him combined with things full of sugar, but he finds out when he invites Hayama in on a whim and ends up being ‘helped’ to unpack for the next four hours until he makes an excuse to go out.

A week later Hayama invites him over for a barbeque and doesn’t take no for an answer - it’s just him and Hayama with a weird redhead, a massive black guy and a brunette that in turn scolds and mothers everyone around. They’re strangers and he doesn’t like it, doesn’t feel comfortable threatening them the way he is with his own mismatched group of friends.

The encounter tires him out and he swears not to go for another, stays firm in his denial the next time. In the afternoon the redhead with the eyes comes by full of dangerous looks and warnings not to upset Hayama - he ends up going and later Midorima tells him it’s no good if he’s being coerced into being friends with them (and he says it with such arrogance and convinced pride that it sparks Miyaji’s temper just as much as Hayama does).

Next time he stays firm in his opinion and Akashi almost seems satisfied. The meat smells good though, and from the upstairs window he can see Hayama being ridiculous. Later he brings over leftovers, and asks in advance if Miyaji will come next time.

He regrets that he gave in a bit when after that Hayama acts almost like they’re best friends, dropping by day by day and not leaving, making him unpack the last few boxes he has still has left to make it a home and have everything in its proper place. Surprisingly he’s not a bad cook, so it’s one benefit he can live with.

“Don’t you have things to do during the day instead of bothering me?” Miyaji asks him eventually, over a bowl of rice and plenty of fried fish that smells like lemon and garlic. Hayama stops with food halfway to his mouth and gives him a puzzled look.

“But I like you,” He protests, as if it’s just that simple. The bowl he has hold of makes a soft noise when he sets it down, as if he’s thinking hard while he stares at Miyaji. It’s the only time he’s seen him really serious, and it’s uncomfortable. “Isn’t it natural to want to spend time with the one you like?”

He’s openly blunt and honest, without a care for Miyaji’s feelings when he goes red and nearly chokes on his fish, tossing a pillow at Hayama’s face to break their eyecontact.

“Isn’t it natural, though?” Hayama asks him again when he’s about to go home, standing in the doorway, shadowed a little by the dark outside. He doesn’t leave until he gets a maybe as an answer.

The next day he comes back looking determined, and though he’s shorter he corners Miyaji when he’s at the kitchen counter and rests his head on Miyaji’s back.

“It’s definitely natural to want to spend time together,” He says with conviction, as if he’d actually gone and surveyed people on the matter so he could back up his opinion with those of others, and Miyaji gives in. He just - he gives in, and doesn’t see the point of being stubborn.

“I guess it is,” He concedes, and Hayama spins him around with surprising enthusiasm. He takes a kiss, takes more, and doesn’t stop. Miyaji has gotten himself in trouble.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aomine/akashi genderbends nsfw

Akashi’s fairly certain they’re both equally competitive.

Aomine’s breasts are soft under her hands, more than a handful but easy to hold. She wears blue bras that match her hair and dip down just a little too far, just teasing at the edge where skin changes colour and darkens.

For a few moments she looks up and watches Aomine; on her back on the couch with her hands on Akashi’s waist. They’re fair hands, sadly neglected with nails that are always slightly longer than are strictly practical for basketball. They trace patterns up and down her skin, the bumps of her spine or the edge of her panties, digging in now and then to leave a mark.

They feel like a challenge and she takes it, teasing down the lacy edge of Aomine’s strapless bra until it’s just far down enough it won’t be a problem. She leans down with focused intent, drawing her tongue slow and gentle over one soft nipple until it’s wet enough that the air in the room feels cold and makes it perk up.

The other one follows suit without encouragement, stiffening before Akashi’s fingers reach it. For all that they’re hard the skin is soft and gives a little when Akashi bites at one as gently as possible, only teasing in an edge of teeth until Aomine gasps and flushes a little.

Her leg raises between Akashi’s, skirt sliding down to leave just her bare thigh. It’s warm where it settles between Akashi’s legs, rubbing ever so slightly. She looks smug when Akashi looks up again, so she pinches harder at one nipple and wipes that smirk off her face.

The leg between her thighs doesn’t stop, and she pushes back a little for more friction. It’s firm and good, just enough to enjoy, and she rubs a little. Her enthusiasm extends and she lowers her head again, drawing circles around Aomine’s nipple with her tongue, sucking gently when she’s had enough and kneads more roughly at them with her hands.

She loses rapidly when fingers go from her back and trace around her waist; the fabric of her skirt hangs down and out of the way when Aomine slips fingers into her panties, past perfectly trimmed hair and seeks out her clitoris, rubbing at it gently. At the first touch she shudders, momentarily forgetting what she’s doing as her muscles tense up. It’s a little wet when she turns her head and rests it on Aomine’s chest, but she gasps and forgets it when she grinds back harder and Aomine rubs faster, making Akashi’s legs tremble and tighten around hers.

She shakes when nails dig into her waist and she squeezes her eyes shut, holding on tight to the edges of the couch. When she comes she goes still, silent with her mouth just a little open. Afterwards she loses her tension and rest heavily on Aomine whose hand is still trapped between them.

“I win,” Aomine gloats, working to get her hand free; she rests both of them on Akashi’s ass, giving a fond little squeeze. For a moment she’s patient before she’s restless, and Akashi gives in with a sigh. Aomine doesn’t believe in giving without recieving.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aokisekaga genderbends yep nsfw

“Mine are definitely bigger,” Aomine snipes, chest to chest and face to face with Kagami. Their voices mix and mingle in argument, throwing numbers and letters of size at eachother between witty insults and annoyance.

“That’s definitely a lie, Dyki,” Kagami sneers back, oblivious to the hands trying to tug them apart. Kise tries to shoulder between them - slower than them at changing, and much noisier about people peeking.

“Ladies,” She starts, voice convincing and smooth and finally drawing attention to her. They both turn to look, eyes narrowing at an impartial party. It’s colder when they part and turn, staring down Kise.

She’s as tall as they are but slimmer; on anyone else Aomine would hate that tiny waist, those pert breasts and the look she has about her that makes people want to be delicate with her. They never do though - never give in, and Kagami’s of the same mindset when they each take Kise by an arm to stop her from escaping.

“So, whose are better?” Kagami asks first, pushing Kise down to sit on the bed and look at them both. She folds her arms under her chest, eyes flitting between the both of them like she can’t fathom where to look that’s appropriate.

“I don’t know,” She whines out, falling backwards onto the bed with her face covering her hands. They’re the same, or practically so, and it’s impossible to pick. The bed dips on either side of her when they come closer to tug her hands away, and she finds herself with a handful of breasts on either side.

“Well?” Aomine asks, expectant with a voice full of conviction that she’s going to win. Her look turns from sureness to annoyance when there’s no answer forthcoming. With her free hand she reaches out and prods at Kise’s chest, watching it move for a second. She does it again, and the padded cups of her bra stay in the same position while her breasts move. “If you’re not going to answer, maybe you think yours are better.”

Her annoyance turns to a leer - draws a smile from Kagami - and she slips her hand under the fabric to grasp a handful and squeeze a bit. Kise’s hands slide off them both when they let go, and Kagami forgoes mimicking the action to lift Kise and fiddle with the little hooks that keep it closed. With them open it’s easy to get it off - it’s gone before Kise’s brain snaps into gear.

“What’re you doing?” She hisses out, moving to cover herself. They intercept her arms, keep them where they are and lean down. Without the bra they go slightly flatter and wider; perfectly real and soft when Aomine nuzzles at one. To her side Kagami nudges it with her nose, looking at Aomine from the corner of her eye.

The same feeling of competition they always have sparks between them and overshadows the air of playfulness; instead of nuzzling she kisses a path from the underside to the top, fingers drawing patterns in the valley between Kise’s breasts. They find Kagami’s there and tangle, putting a barrier between their competition.

She sees Kagami swipe her tongue over Kise’s nipple and scoffs; draws his lips over one butterfly-gently instead and watches it stiffen under the teasing, perking towards her nearly instantly. She nips at it gently, just hard enough to sting a little before sucking on it softly in apology. She forgets the one-on-one they should be having and instead leans down more and takes more of Kise in her mouth - flicks her tongue rapidly over the stiff nipple.

She breaks her focus when Kise whimpers - finally remembers what she’s doing, and gets a look of confused panic from Kagami. When she sits back, Kise raises her hands to cover her chest, knees pressed together tightly. Her face is flushed red and she looks at the the cieling instead of them, squirming with increasing awkwardness the more they stare until she moves to get off the bed. It spurs them into action and they lean forward, each holding a leg instead of an arm this time. 

The white panties have a small patch of wetness in the middle; her hips move when she tries to wriggle away instead.

Aomine reaches out; trails her fingers downwards and outlines Kise through her panties until it draws another whimper from her and Kagami joins in with only minor hesitation.

It’s wetter when she tugs them to the side, lets go of Kise’s leg to hold them out of the way and slips a finger of her free hand inside. It’s at the same time different and the same to her own; slightly tighter with differences she can’t name. A paler finger joins her and she slips a second one in - slick noises come forth when they move at different paces. Kagami lets go of Kise’s other leg, and for a moment she could swear they both expect her to run but they stay spread the way they were to wait for their next move.

Kagami thumbs softly at her clit, watching her hips start to twitch upwards between their fingers and Kagami’s hand - she clenches down on them every so often, legs trying to close not for rejection but out of instinct.

She whimpers more than before, mixed with breathy moans when she exhales unsteadily. Kise’s hands come down to rest at her hips, seeking some kind of stability when she nears her climax and heat pools at her center - she tenses completely when she comes, bearing down on the fingers still inside her. Kagami doesn’t stop - if anything rubs faster and watches Kise’s back arch throughout her orgasm before she’s done and relaxes completely. Her hands slip from her hips to her bed and her legs slide downwards when no longer held up by the two of them between them.

“Kise’s are the most fun,” Aomine concedes after a few moments - after she’s licked her fingers clean in a challenge to Kagami to do the same. She gets a hum for her remark and she thinks it’s agreement - a soft thank you drifts her way from the bed as Kise rolls over to bury her face in the pillow when she can’t reach her bra. “You’re welcome.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akakise; based on a tweet of "i need akashi on drugs thinking kise is the sun".

Akashi hates not knowing something, so when he has to chance to know what non-addictive, safe drugs feel like in a nice environment, he takes it.

Kise’s bedroom is painted in soft golds and browns, with a nice large bed full of decadent pillows and soft blankets. They’re a dark brown too, soft to the touch under his fingers even sober. The floor is free of clutter and looks freshly cleaned to accomodate him, and it’s a thought he appreciates even if he considers himself too smart to jump out of a window and try to fly.

At first it isn’t extraordinary. The windowsil near the bed has drinks in plastic bottles; the kind he has to suck on if he wants a drink, in case they tip over on the bed. There’s food too, not much but enough to sate any craving for salty and sweet.

Of all people, he thinks Kise is good to do this with. Kise is smart, much smarter than he lets on, and responsible enough to balance career, school and hobbies healthily, even if he gets a bit tired. He’s caring too and makes good choices.

Kise is gentle, and even if he’s enthusiastic when he touches Akashi, he touches him like he’s precious. When he does his hands are soft, as soft as the bed under his fingers but different, and Kise’s fingers are lovely things. Each digit is perfect, with tiny grooving fingerprints, and he examines them with his eyes and his own fingers when Kise giggles ever so slightly.

The voice he hears is not fully mature yet, deeper when he’s serious. The adam’s apple is the closest Akashi can get to his vocal cords with fingers that are only humans, but he touches anyway and marvels at the skin. It’s softer under his lips, like no fabric worth comparing to.

Hands stroke his hair, and deep breaths (like he’s controlling himself, just barely, but Akashi doesn’t care) make his chest shake a little. Every muscle that’s defined is easy to name for Akashi even through clothing, but he maps the ridges with his fingertips under the cotton, and watching them rise and fall.

The grooves of his abdomen tremble when he drags his nails through them as gently as he can; they draw a ragged exhale from Kise, and when he looks up, Kise is the sun.

Not literally, he doesn’t think so, but he can’t be sure.

He’s golden; his hair is like yellow sunflowers, a little bit mussed from the pillow, and matches his eyes like daffodils match honey. His skin isn’t quite golden but it’s golden enough.

More than anything his hands and legs are golden, but his hips, the bones there and the skin under the trail towards his thatch of golden curls is white, like lillies and flawless.

Kise is salty, and doesn’t taste like sunshine. Akashi thinks it’s okay. He tastes like skin after practice but slightly different, smells masculine and intense, and sounds deeper than he ever has to Akashi’s ears. He sounds like stars orbiting earth, explosive and humming to anything that will listen.

Akashi’s fingers tingle and his wrist aches when he touches gently on Kise’s sex, drawing patterns on the shaft, circles on the base.

When he jerks in earnest, with twists of his wrist and the hollowing of his cheeks, he gets Kise to fall like a shooting star and drip semen onto his lips like it’s natural (it is; nothing feels more natural than this). He rests his head next to it, lets the salty semen dry on his lips and licks it off after to relish the taste.

He covers soft skin in bitemarks and touches, paints them with soft words and ignores it when Kise dozes off until he follows into sleep himself.


	36. needy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nijimura/haizaki hooker!au

“You’re really a needy little brat.”

Nijimura has more spark than anyone who’s hired company should be allowed to. He’s slightly older than Haizaki, handsome in a scary way, and rougher than he’d thought he liked.

“I’m not paying you for a psychiatric diagnosis,” Haizaki shoots back, beer he shouldn’t have in hand, and his jeans on in an effort to cover up without displaying too closely his dislike of being casually nude. They fit tight and snug, courtesy of the father-by-blood who substitutes money for affection. Then, as if to rebel, he adds, “You bastard.”

“See?” Nijimura frowns, wonderfully pouty mouth turning down at the corners, until Nijimura is no longer in front of him but above him, standing in a casual glory. When he steps forward, Haizaki has no choice but to lean back, and back, and back until he has Nijimura’s cock in his mouth and hands in his hair. “Needy. Trying to rile me up.”

His hands are brutal and hold firm, give no sympathy at all, and make him helpless but to suck, and try to defend himself after. Bitter semen pours down his throat moments later.

“Needy boys, in my experience, need discipline,” Nijimura muses to himself, and though Haizaki scrambles away, he itches for the bites on his neck and bruises on his hips, and the brutally truthful remarks about how he’ll always love cock the most.


	37. this is unacceptable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akakagakuro incest!au

Any conversation that Seijuurou starts with the words ‘this is unacceptable’ (or the lesser known variant, ‘this is an extremely good plan’), is bound to turn out extremely badly for them.

“Your grades are terrible,” he continues, with their failing grades held next to his own practically perfect ones. Tetsuya feels like Seijuurou is doubly disappointed in him for being the one who likes to read but still fails. On the other hand, he thinks Seijuurou wants to be harsher on Taiga, for sharing his full blood. “This needs to change.”

With nothing more he opens the door to his bedroom; handsome, adult, decorated for the eldest son (which technically is Tetsuya, but Tetsuya, technically, doesn’t exist in their father’s will). Books litter the table for their final year and Taiga’s first; four years younger than them. As if sensing the impending doom, Taiga scurries off to buy time making snacks.

“I worry,” Seijuurou admits, as if ashamed to fall to a folly as mediocre as human emotion. Often, Tetsuya wonders how isolated he’d have turned out without them here.

“I know,” he reassures, quiet, part of the background as was demanded of him in return for living in the main house. His fingers curl around Seijuurou’s waist and tug him down to sit at the table, staying shoulder to shoulder. The warmth is nice, and worth indulging with hours of study sessions. He smiles jokingly, “Maybe we’re just stupid.”

Though it draws a laugh from Seijuurou, he obviously doesn’t believe it. Nonetheless, he tries to play in normal, teenaged flirting ways.

“I’ll have to take care of you, then. Brotherly duty,” Seijuurou smiles out, eyes on Taiga in an apron with a tray of snacks in hand, and the look is anything but brotherly. Conspiring wordlessly with Tetsuya, he rounds one side of the table and meets on the other side, determined to punish their bigger, younger brother for his terrible grades.

Seijuurou’s studying sessions, investigation concludes, involve a minimum of studying.


	38. welcome home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kisehai domestic!au

“I bought you an apron,” it is ghastly, pink with frills on it, and Ryouta has the look of a man one number away from winning the lottery jackpot. His eyes are open wide, adding to the innocent, pleading expression on a face that has grown from annoyingly pretty to infuriatingly handsome since they first met. “Please wear it.”

“No,” he protests, with the speed (and perhaps desperation) of a man watching a pan of milk almost boil over onto a clean stove. Then, ignoring his overlong silver hair tied up into a messy ponytail, his dusty jeans and the dripping, freshly washed dishes on the side, he slams his drying cloth onto the kitchen worktop and adds, “I’m not your goddamn newly-wed housewife.”

And he isn’t - not from his perspective, anyway. It’s only fair he do housework while between jobs, if Ryouta’s the one putting food on the table (or in the cupboard, waiting for the magic touch of a year of experience in kitchen work to make them presentable). Ryouta’s perspective has never been anything less than twisted, though.

“Please, Shougo-kun,” Ryouta whines, encroaching into the kitchen at a slow, determined pace. The whiny tone of voice is familiar, indicative of the start of days of bullying Shougo until he starts a fight and gives in, or skips the difficult part.

“No,” Shougo reaches behind him into the drainage rack for the cutlery and pulls out a spatula, threateningly holding it in front of him. Unsurprisingly, the lack of sharp edges get it janked out of his hands and instead he finds his arms full of Ryouta, running hands up and down his back and kisses along his jaw, dragging his resistance up and throwing it in the dirt. Between kisses he pleads out quiet, needy questions of won’t he try it, just once.

“Fine,” he grits out in the end, making Ryouta pull back, kiss him hard, and smile beautifully. Vividly, Shougo’s reminded that Lucifer was God’s most beautiful angel, but before he can dwell on it, he loses his shirt.

“Wonderful, Shougo-kun.”


	39. what a stunner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kisehai pretend couple!au

“I really don’t understand,” Haizaki complains for the seventeen time that hour, making Kise want to punch or gag him. He’s pretty, but that’s all there is to him - thankfully for both of them, Kise enjoys aesthetic beauty. “Why are you blackmailing me, like a stupid fucker, instead of asking one of your fans?”

Technically, he has a very good point, but conceding might make him doubt the veracity of Kise’s conviction. And really, he doesn’t like to be wrong.

“Because if I dated one girl, it’d make more of them think I should date more girls. Or they’d tell everyone it was fake,” Kise explains, for the eighteenth time instead, and it is indeed very true. Between school (which he admits he isn’t brilliant at), modelling (which he’s good enough at to just wing it), and basketball (which he’s determined to be the best at), he doesn’t have time to woo girls. “But they’ll notice you after being with me.”

True to form, the corners of Haizaki’s mouth turn down into a pouty sulk that brings him more trouble than good by making Kise (and, Kise suspects, Nijimura) want to bully him even more.

“I don’t need your help getting girls,” he bites out, body tensing to start a fight in a predictable pattern. As much as Kise likes it - the scent of deoderant, sweat and anger on the feeling of tense muscles - the promotion event where he’ll either make himself interesting or put a dent in his carreer is in view, so he rubs a soothing hand down the base of Haizaki’s spine, barely resisting slipping it down even further.

“Smile, Shougo-kun,” Kise smiles in example, looking every bit the model he is, and leans in to not be overheard. “It’s only a few more months.”

In retaliation, Haizaki pinches the back of Kise’s wandering hand, but with less rage than usual. Seeing Haizaki out of his comfort zone makes Kise’s smile more genuine, and he prepares for a very fun night.


	40. make me sing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kisetaka band!au

Takao doesn’t understand time perfectly. When he thinks he has a day until a show, it feels long; when he thinks in terms of hours, he’s sure he’ll never make it.

He sleeps early, in the hotel room he shares with Ryouta, and pretends in the avoidant way they have that he doesn’t want to cuddle (but ends up doing so anyway). Then morning comes too quick: he’s pulled out by makeup artists and stylists that put him in tight pants and shirts, pretty jackets and flash jewelry that sends their fans wild.

“Nice earrings,” he teases backstage before the show, in the dressing room Kise traps him in. He has a pretty face that wins him online polls, and Takao’s allowed to touch. Despite foundation forced on them, he runs his fingers along Kise’s cheekbones and down the defined bridge of his nose to his lips.

Moments later Kise does away with delicacy, almost tackling him to the floor and stakes a claim on his mouth. Adrenaline brings out the barely hidden willfullness in him - the want he always has.

“We’re on stage in twenty,” Takao reminds, in no way asking for him to stop. He rakes his hands through hair full of product, artfully styled into a controlled mess.

“Fuck the stage,” Kise mutters, completely heartfelt but distracted by his quest to overcome tight pants. Breathing heavily, he looks up, and adds what Takao wants to hear. “Actually, fuck you.”


	41. bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aokagamido werewolf au

"You don’t smell like an alpha," Aomine is lazy, with big sharp teeth and big sharp nails, and a spicy, musky scent that reeks of leadership. He stares at Midorima without issue from his perch in a woodlands clearing where their territories meet. Despite trying his best, and being born to an alpha, Midorima never feels like it.

"Daiki," Kagami scolds, and he smells like Alpha too. Midorima doesn’t recognise the sigils of the pack of his collar, or even the area or any markings. With logic, he can only deduce he’s foreign despite his amiable looks. “They said meet him, not insult him."

For a moment, he thinks they might clash and fight, but a split second later it’s gone in a playful elbow jab.

"Yes," Midorima clears his throat, standing tall and proper and exceptionally prim. “Let’s move this meeting along."

Gruff laughs meet him at the statement and Aomine rises, half-circles around him and slouches a bit. Instead of lazy, this time it’s predatory. He leans forward in a way that will lend him momentum, and has his legs splayed a little. On Midorima’s other side, Kagami’s less hostile, but has a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"What are we here for?" He asks, frosty with a hint of anger he doesn’t feel. He’s capable and good, but if he’s honest he knows they have the upper hand alone, nevermind together.

"To play," Aomine drawls, and breaks into a grin too. His features blur and shift, then drop when his shape shifts to being on all-fours. From the other side Kagami does the same, and they pounce. Before he can start his own change, they’re on top of him where he’s on the floor.

Even for Alphas, they’re big: Kagami is ruddy reds on brown fur, with a thick wintercoat still shedding, where Aomine sheens blue through sleek black fur fully ready for summer. He manages to shift moments later himself and squirm from under them. His fur is like a forest in spring, greens and browns mottled and intermingled.

Slightly nervous and now hostile, he bares his teeth and stands his ground. As before, they circle him and fake a lunge, watching him dodge back on instinct, until Kagami takes the lead and pounces while he’s focused on Aomine.

For what feels like ages they roll around, without teeth or claws involved until he’s pinned.

With a soft tongue Aomine grooms his ear and then his muzzle, and when done slumps down on top of him. His paws cross on Midorima’s chest, with his head rested on top of them. Sighing contentedly, he seems to go to sleep until Midorima shifts back.

"This is really, really improper," he tries when in the silence he ends up looking Kagami in the eye. “I should report that."

Kagami tuts, rolls his eyes and leans over Aomine to kiss him, then murmurs, “Stop, already.”

Then, he makes certain he’s obeyed with kisses that steal Midorima’s words.


	42. pride goeth before the fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nijihai

"I bet you can’t stay with someone without falling in love," Nijimura says after seeing Haizaki with another new girlfriend, and he can because he’s older and a bit mean with a dash of brutal honesty. Unfortunately Haizaki can’t resist a challenge so he bites back with a denial and bets Nijimura will fall in love first, so Nijimura replies "That’s fine." and smiles.

First it is fine but odd, and people look at them when they hold hands, but he can live with it for a won bet and another instance where he’s not backed down from a fight.

"Your hands are soft," he offers as a sort of awkward conversation in the silence of waiting for a bus, then realizes what he has said but plays it off as cool. Nijimura runs a thumb over his hand and sighs out an exasperated laugh that says ‘youth’ despite their age difference only being a year, then thanks him quietly. After that it is easier and the movies go well, silently and full of shared popcorn and no fumbling of hands that touch akwardly in the dark.

"It’s kind of sad you’re on your own," Nijimura offers when he stays the night and no one is home for Haizaki to greet.

"You get used to it," Haizaki counters and steals a kiss. Nijimura runs hands up Haizaki’s sides to his face, and it’s more forward than middle school girls have ever been no matter how much he’d like to brag on the contrary, then they go to his neck and stay there while Nijimura moves in and takes kisses with confidence and the leadership that makes him so fucking admirable.

"It’s sadder that you think so," Nijimura says after and it stings because it’s true so he shakes his head to drop the topic and feels oddly vulnerable in the yellow light coming in from the kitchen where they’ve just had a snack. He lays his head on the pillow and instead of lay beside him, Nijimura takes the chance to suck up a lovebite and pulls back satisfied to say, "You’re mine now."

Haizaki doesn’t question the tingles in his gut, because he’s scared of what the answer may be when Nijimura is only mimicing a playboy.

"That looks nice on you," Nijimura says the next morning and he wears a pair of Haizaki’s sweatpants and nothing else. With a yawn he scratches at his tummy and collapses into a chair at the dining room table while staring at the hickeys. "Let’s make some more today."

Turning to get the milk for his cereal, Haizaki clears his throat and agrees.

But lovebites turn to kisses that trail further down his neck to his chest then his hips and little bites that make him jerk away and try to cover himself.

"I haven’t showered," he tries and realizes he sounds ridiculous so regrets it but Nijimura doesn’t laugh.

"It’s okay," he soothes and lays kisses even further down, then doesn’t even protest at his hair being pulled.

Their dates become a regular occurance, and Haizaki looks forward to them.

Not quite a week and a half later, Nijimura twines their fingers together and Haizaki’s heart skips a beat in his chest because Nijimura’s hands are still so, so soft and he’s already used to their shape and size.

"In love with me yet?" Nijimura asks casual as you please with a raised eyebrow and a quizzical look.

With a start Haizaki realizes he is but the day is bright and his reputation stares him in the face so he says “No”, and Nijimura congratulates him on a bet well won, then lets go and doesn’t hold on again.


	43. seen the world, done it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haizaki

"Variety is the spice of life," Haizaki laughs to a journalist holding a silver recorder in his hand. He’s still young, probably an intern but has the guts to come straight out and ask the question a lot of other journalists dance around: the question of ‘why’? "You can’t satisfy a sweet craving with salt, or the other way round."

From the corner of his eye, Haizaki sees his newest conquest start to frown. He’s a model, fairly pretty, and Haizaki has no preference for build so tall and slender is fine, too. With eyes on him he can’t help but lean in a little closer to the journalist and think of something to whisper.

"Are you sweet?" he murmurs and the young journalist flares up a bright red, not expecting the question and not prepared for it. Haizaki is famous for being famous, dating all the right people (and some of the wrong ones), then leaving them broken-hearted in his wake. The devastation he leaves behind thrills him to the core and makes him feel important.

"I don’t know," the journalist breathes out so he leans in closer, takes a deep breath and laughs. Around them a few cameras click; undoubtably to make up another story about his infamous cruelty for flirting in front of his lover. Some people hate the limelight, but he craves it. Knowing his life and lies are so fascinating people will search out information and wait for new developments is hilarious.

"I think you are," Haizaki grins, and it is the grin he’s perfected since middle school with the help of unsuspecting young men and women. On his back he can almost feel the holes his lover is burning into him with a stare. He’s too new for Haizaki to discard yet though, so he takes another deep breath to relish the heady scent of cologne and draws back with a laugh, "But I’m not craving sweetness tonight."

With that the interview is over and he leaves again to placate an angry lover with sweet (yet untrue) words about how he’s changed his ways and was only inquiring about the building. He wraps his arm around his boyfriend’s waist - it’s not often he’s the shorter partner - and feels one wrap around his shoulders in return; tight and possessive. Soon, it’ll feel suffocating. And when that happens, he already knows who he wants next.


	44. synonyms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kuromido

_I’d like to try to engage in copulation with you this weekend_ , Midorima texts him on a Monday morning, as if it’s a doctor’s appointment and they barely know eachother. Kuroko spits orange juice all over the fridge when he can’t help laughing, and gets in trouble for it for the rest of the morning.  


_Please try to be a bit more sexy in your requests, Shintarou-kun_ , Kuroko finally manages to text back in the afternoon, after thinking it through for several classes. He has basketball practice soon (they both do), and Midorima should be just tired enough for the idea to get a grasp on his mind. After a moment’s consideration, he picks up his phone as he finishes changing into practice clothes. _Also, I would like to be the ‘attacking’ partner._  


With a satisfied smile on his face (that is really little more than just a twitch of his lips, because it is far more enjoying to be stone-faced and sneak up on others) that he has probably made Midorima go bright red in the changing rooms, he puts his all into basketball practice and winning a 3 v 3.  


_Absolutely not._ He gets back though, and though he expected it, he is fleetingly disappointed it won’t go easily. In his professional opinion, Midorima is most certainly a partner who needs to be taken and spoiled.  _I would be amenable to allowing you to, as they put it, assume a ‘cowgirl position’. Are you available to ‘knock boots’ this coming weekend?_

_I am._ Kuroko texts back, and waits until the weekend to further the discussion.

"Shintarou," Kuroko starts on the weekend itself, after he has received two confirmation texts that they’re indeed going to fornicate and become familiar in the biblical sense. "I didn’t mean for you to look up synonyms for sex when I said sexy."  


On Midorima’s bedside table is a small, green bowl of condoms in a variety of sizes, and several different bottles of lube, to match the correct material of condom. A pristine, new box of tissues is next to them, too. Kuroko is almost surprised there are no latex gloves for hygiene reasons.  


"When I said sexy," he leans in, expression slightly more lewd than deadpan, and Midorima leans back and back and back towards the pillow until his head rests on it. "I meant for you to tell me what you’d like. Right now, I’d tell you I’d like to unbutton your shirt then slip it off, then suck on your nipples until they’re stiff."  


Midorima does go bright red, and his hands fly to the buttons Kuroko is undoing.  


"Then, I’d like to do the same and take of your slacks, then get between your legs, slick my fingers and-"  


"I understand," Midorima interrupts him, slightly desperate for him to stop being quite so blunt, and in his panic hands over the lube and submits.  


Kuroko intends to very thoroughly show Midorima his ‘sexy’.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kiyokise

"My knees don’t work," Kise says, heartbreakingly simplistic, quiet as a rattle snake’s tail and twice as bad for the rate of his pulse.  
"Isn’t it awful?" Kiyoshi asks, and his body is silent, unmoving and still but comfortable on the bench. He doesn’t flinch when the autumn wind rustles the trees that line the outdoor court.

"It really is," Kise agrees. The breath he draws in wavers like the wind twines in to it and makes it shake in his lungs before it shapes into words of grief and sorrow. He feels more than sees one long, strong arm drop over his shoulders, and silently appreciates the warmth in Kiyoshi’s big hands. He hadn’t really cared for him when his eyes had been full of stars, and Kagami, and the sight of Kuroko’s back when he could never catch up and make him turn.

"It wasn’t your fault," he’s reassured, and he knows Kiyoshi studies medicine, knows better than to think Kise hadn’t brought it on himself, but Kise also knows Kiyoshi is unfailingly kind - reassuring. He is an old, thick winter blanket, or a wolfhound oozing onto his lap. Something about the comparisons makes him feel they’d be insulting, but they’re not meant that way at all.

"It feels like the end of the world," Kise admits, and tries to inflect it with his dramatic flair of personality to frame it as a joke. It comes out as a raw, bleeding thing and he wonders if he coughed his heart up through his throat.

"I know," Kiyoshi agrees. His sigh seems to go on for forever until he slides a bit, stretches his legs and leans his head on Kise’s. They slot together fairly well, Kise muses. Broken things tend to do that. He turns, lifts his head and takes a kiss, then pours his desperation into it.

If his world is ending, it may as well end with a bang.


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akashi is hardly the best boss in the world
> 
> tw: mild gore

"This came for you," Kagami hands him a package: brown paper, padded. When he squeezes, it feels like something firm but soft is inside. Next to him, Akashi’s tea rapidly starts going cold, the way it always does when he looks away from it for a second.

Without a word Akashi opens and tips it, then manages not to roll his eyes at the dull, quiet thud of a lopped-off nose rolling on the table next to his breakfast. Kagami cringes back as if he’s of a delicate disposition, and a frown mars his handsome face. He really shouldn’t frown. It causes wrinkles.

A note enclosed in the package tries to scare Akashi off from widening his reign. ‘Remember where to stick your nose’, the note tries to tell him. On the table, he recognises it as one of his men’s noses by the awfully gaudy piercing. He’d been tempted to rip it out before, but Hanamiya really stepped it up a notch.

"Go discourage them," Akashi waves a hand, and sweeps the rubbish into the delicate trashcan by his desk. "As you always do."

"I knew you only liked me for my body," Kagami tries at being funny. Under his shirt, his shoulders are broad and muscled. Akashi likes watching him swim.

"If you used your brain more often, I’d value it more highly," he drawls and turns back to his breakfast, signaling the conversation is over. His tea is stone cold. Damnit.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> halfass lazy nsfw

Akashi seemed to purr as he stared at them, face halfshadowed as the lights pointed to the stage.

"Go on."

The two waiters up on stage squirmed awkwardly in their tight white shirts as they looked everywhere but at him. The prize - student loans, fully paid - hovered awkwardly between them. Kagami moved first, tipping his head back to let the water pour down his throat to his chest. It spread over his pecs, making the material translucent.   
  
Midorima was more reluctant until a quirked eyebrow from Akashi spurred him into action. He started from the center of his chest, splashing the water all over himself. In the slight chill of the room, his nipples perked. He felt them as he smoothed his hands down his chest to truly make the shirt stick. A faint blush overtook his cheeks and he hesitated reaching for the next jug.

"Why don’t you help him?" Akashi suggested, eyes on Kagami, who hesitated.

After a moment he picked up another jug, and stepped in close to Midorima. With an encouraging whisper he pressed their chests together and poured the water between them. A shiver took Midorima until he pressed closer for the heat Kagami always provided.

He raised his hands, rubbing them over and under Kagami’s muscles to define them properly. Through the fabric he could see they were dark pink. On an impulse, he pinched them until Kagami groaned. Not to be out-done, he slid his hands to Midorima’s ass and squeezed. When he pressed his hips forward to get away from the wandering hands, Midorima could feel how hard Kagami was - and realized the opposite was true too.

Instinctively he grinded forward for more contact, hands flexing to pinch harder at Kagami’s nipples. He jerked at the feeling, taking a step forward to bring them closer to a wall. On his way past he paused for another large jug of water. He tipped it down Midorima’s back and watched it wet his jeans as it poured down. The flimsy fabric clung to his ass, then Kagami’s hands as he worked his hands under them, rocking to run against Midorima.

As Midorima’s arms came up to encircle his neck, he nuzzled and nipped at his wet throat, drawing a breathless moan from Midorima.

Before he knew it they were grinding against eachother roughly, losing rhythm as they reached their climax. Kagami panted as he finished, daring a look at Akashi’s smug face.

"Well done."


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so domestic

Living with one of them would be weird, but living with both of them is unfathomable.

And it’s not like he’d complain, it’s just — weird. Living alone, he’d never do laundry until the last minute rush, when all of his emergency socks have been worn and if he wears those jeans one more time, they’re gonna start smelling weird.

Midorima, on the other hand, has a strictly enforced schedule, and woe betide the man who breaks it. Every wednesday the house smells like lotus flowers and jasmine as the laundry dries on the radiators.

And once he notices one weird, mundane thing, he notices them all. How he never takes calls from telemarketers or door-to-door salesmen when Akashi relishes going at them (and Kagami compares him to a Jack Russell while Midorima’s drinking, then has to stop him choking).

And how he gets breakfast in bed on mondays, and gets sent on errands for foods he never knew existed, and a million little things that make his tummy twist.

"Taiga," Akashi calls imperiously on the couch, head propped up on the arm of it. "I need a cushion."

He glowers a bit when Kagami smiles and manhandles him, gets him into cuddling position, and murmurs out an estimation of Midorima’s arrival.  
Akashi shrugs, switches channel, and asks about Kagami’s day.

It’s been full of little things.


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akakise

"You live in a world of mirrors," Kise says, then laughs. His laugh is like a field of sunflowers slowly wilting at the end of summer, or the last rays of sunshine in autumn. It gives Akashi chills.

"Two of you," Kise’s body lilts to the side as he sighs, as if the air in his lungs was all that was holding him up. He uses the momentum to pass a bright orange basketball, new and forgotten on the floor. His movements remind Akashi of nothing but a snake. He feels himself start to sweat all over; his palms are clammy, and his inner thighs stick together.

"Or maybe three of you?" he questions, with the words slipping from his tongue like honey from a nest. His hands slide to Akashi’s waist, gently at first, then hard, slightly mean. Akashi feels Kise’s breath on his neck until he turns his head to look and recoils at the one sight of one red eye. "Three of us might be a better phrase."

He laughs again; it is a laugh of the sun rotting bodies with its heat, of bees perishing in winter, and of heatstroke. His hands drop from Akashi’s waist, and lay innocently open at his sides as he leaves. Akashi is for a moment acutely aware that reflections are permanent.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akaizu

Izuki likes puns, but he’s not really a fan of irony.

The first time he meets Akashi is nothing quite so spectacular as the tale Kagami tells them of presence like the empire state building, and words that carry across a pitch. In fact, it’s perfectly ordinary.

He goes to the bathroom, washes his hands, and glances in the mirror. Next to him, Akashi does the same and almost-smiles. It’s a mediocre effort.

"You’ve really got to cut it out with these impromptu hairdoes," he says to break the ice, and Akashi looks at him blankly for a second, then walks out.

For some reason, the non-response is more disconcerting than being yelled at.

The next time they meet, he’s coming out of the changinc rooms, ready for his match. Almost, so close, he almost walks into Akashi. Before he notices it, Akashi has passed him.

"Don’t think you can give me the slip by slipping pa-" he starts to call, and stops short at the intense, scrutinizing look Akashi gives him. It’s more of a stare. He chokes on a breath, and it’s not funny at all. Irony is just sad.

Akashi leaves, and they meet on the court. And he’s been thinking about this one - well, a little.

"Hey," he says instead when the words stick in his throat, then unlodge when Akashi cracks another hesitant almost-smile.

"It won’t crack your cheeks to crack a smile," Izuki huffs out, then immediately gasps in at the possibly there, definitely sorta there tinge of red on Akashi’s cheeks, lifted up by his cautious, but genuine smile.

Huh. Better than being told to shut up.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> help

They all know Akashi rules the school. He did in Teiko and he does in Rakuzan; never before has a first year made cheer captain.

"I don’t want backflips," Akashi complains over french fries in maji burger. Across from him, Kuroko already looks bored by the conversation. "Give me something unique. Something exciting if you want to join my cheer team."

He shifts restlessly, his red skirt sliding up his legs as he does so. It bothers him very little, if he’s honest. The entire crowd sees his panties when he’s tossed in the air, anyway.

"It’s not your team alone," Kuroko protests, snagging one of Akashi’s chicken nuggets. Nearby, a few patrons whisper and stare. Kuroko is known almost as little as Akashi is known much. It makes him unfortunately unsuited to the spotlight. "The rest of the team has input too."

Akashi tuts, shakes his head a bit, and sighs.

"It’s not a democracy, Tetsuya. It’s a cheerocracy."


	52. Chapter 52

"Would it be a deal-breaker for you?" Kise raises both perfectly plucked eyebrows, and crams half a stick of celery inelegantly into his mouth. "if Akashicchi was into s&m?"

The conversation feels oddly pointed to Izuki: he and Kise rarely talk outside of groups.

"It depends," he starts, words forming on his lips before his brain clicks into gear. "On how attached I am."

A smile flits over Kise’s lips, before he reigns it for a stern look.

"To him, of course," Izuki backtracks with a blinding smile. "A leash is a reasonable place to start."


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aohai

aohai “everything’s going to be fine”

"Fuck," Haizaki mutters, hand burnt and pride shattered. His hair is tied back and up, to keep it out of the way.

"You good?" Aomine hollers from the couch that’s near the studio appartment’s window. He seemslazily comfy, as feline as ever with a book in his hand and his legs over the back of the sofa. He hasn’t looked at Haizaki yet.   
  
He takes a moment to look at his hand, assess the situation. The skin is red and throbbing, screaming at him for water. His palms are rough and wet with cooking oil. He prefers this (dirt, visible injury, go-away-soon) to the bitter sensation of jabbing pain and asking if the building has an elevator.

"Fine," he bites out, turning and hobbling to the sink. The cold water makes him feel marginally better. He’ll heal (but not the same as before; weaker, different) in time.

"You should have lukewarm water," Aomine sighs out, making Haizaki regret turning to a trainee officer with first aid training for help.

"It doesn’t matter," he bites back, stopping and drying his hands in a sense of defiance. The sting in his hands is sort of sweet.

"It does," Aomine cuts in, no-nonense. He drapes himself on Haizaki’s shoulders and holds them both when it makes his bad knee buckle. "Everything’s going to be fine."

He sounds convinced, and lets go, stir-fries the vegetables, and orders Haizaki to use burn cream.

"Yeah," he agrees, unbelieving, and ignores the wedge it drives between them.


	54. Chapter 54

When Akashi suggests a small event - a test of miragen skills - Kagami expects things like 3 on 3 all-out battles, or Akashi picking on their weaknesses, or, well, something other than this. 

The Rakuzan jersey is at least a size or two too small for him, tight on his pecs and shoulders, and he daren’t move for ripping it. The scissors incident had been bad enough, and he hadn’t even  _done_  anything then.

"This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind," he admits awkwardly. The room is cold enough to make his nipples perk up and show through the tight jersey. He’s always had…  _prominent_  nipples, but it’s never been an issue in basketball.

As subtly as he can, he reaches up and crosses his arms to hide them. It makes Akashi’s eyebrow twitch towards a frown, and he sighs.

"This is exactly what  _I_  had in mind, though,” he reveals. Kagami wouldn’t put it past him to organise an entire event to see if his emperor eye was right. For a moment, he does his best to keep Akashi from prying his arms away until he gives up.

The flushed look on Akashi’s face strongly hints he’s not going to mock what Kagami has always been self-concious about. He’s immediately proven right when he drops his arms and Akashi touches, almost reverently, and for once looks a little crazy in a good way.

"Transfer to Rakuzan," Akashi demands, pinching one lightly.

Kagami yelps and swats his hands away, hands coming up to protect his chest again.

"No! The Inter-high is soon-" he shifts so he side is towards Akashi, and shuffles towards the door. "And stop touching them! I have to go outside and if you do… they’ll…"

He trails off, not ready to put it in blunt words, and Akashi sighs, tossing him Nebuya’s spare jersey.

"No one can see them if I can’t touch them yet," he demands and leaves, letting Kagami reflect on their conversation.  _Yet_.


	55. Chapter 55

akashi/older men - this one’s on me

"I didn’t give you guards so that you might use them as your own personal harem.”

On the other side of the table, Akashi’s father slams a goblet of wine on the table. It is gold, and beautifully detailed. His back is completely straight and leads to a deep red flush patterning out across his neck. The image of control rapidly starts fading.

"I didn’t use them all," Akashi protests. He is of age, and a prince of the realm. Soon he will be king. His father has raised him to chase power and he is a wolf after a rabbit. Blood does not prevent a wolf from killing: it encourages. "Per se."

He shifts a bit in his seat, trying to get comfortable. In his haste to confront his father he has lacked attention to detail: he has on Teodor’s belt, Zhiang’s trousers. He’s luck they’re of similar size. Had it been Adriano, who stands behind him, he wouldn’t have made to the door without tripping. Adriano is tall, broad from his years of training whilst Akashi was a child.

"You are a disgrace," his father insists. The man he had been in his prime is gone and Akashi fears him no more. "You… all of them… you’re depraved!"

Behind him, Akashi feels a twitch in the air where Adriano aches to clutch his sword, show threat. He loves his guards, each one, but Adriano most. From lover to protector, to an occasional source of discipline, he always gives what Akashi needs.

"This one’s on me," Adriano speaks up; all soft, lilting accents and drawn-out syllables. His figures of speech stay odd. "Insult him - us - again, and there will not be a third time."

Something about clear menace from a man from the city of love, the land of good food and hospitality, is more terrifying than a rabid dog. It does the job, shuts his father up, and keeps him from following when they leave.

"I would kill for you," Adriano hints, all dedication and dramatics.

"I know," Akashi smiles. His teeth are pearl-white and sharp, in the shape of the mark he leaves on his lovers.


	56. Chapter 56

Haizaki doesn’t strip for the fun of it. There’s good parts, of course - free drinks from rich men, the competitive rush in a race to garner more stares, and the feeling of all lights on him - but at the end of the day, it’s money.

He’s blown college already; too angry, too quick to pick fights, and not smart enough. He sort of resents that, since he’s plenty smart. Just maybe not on paper. Regardless, he’s streetsmart, knows how to keep control in a lapdance, and milks enough tips to pay rent, eat enough, and sometimes buy something he’s wanted since forever.

Which is why it shakes him so much when Kise reappears, twenty-five and stunning. His jaw has sharpened since they were sixteen and last met, but he has unmistakable long lashes and the easy, prideful aura he always carried as an undertone to his cheer. It’s stronger now, more prominent, sharpened by international modelling (and of course Haizaki knows. Who doesn’t know Kise Ryouta?)

When he slinks off someone’s lap down by table four, he makes for the entry to the bar and reassures himself that he’s changed enough to be unrecognisable. Silver hair, silk-soft instead of black braids, and his body has changed, slimmed on the waist and chest, but more defined, stronger.

"Table seven looks like good money," the bartender brings up casually. "Hasn’t let anyone get his drink yet. Give it a shot."

Good money isn’t something to really pass up. Not in his business.

Keeping his chin up (powerful pose, he thinks) he makes his way over, all silver boots and black underwear, slightly lacy.

"I’d like a lapdance before I’d like a drink," Kise smiles, and it’s all teeth. Haizaki slips close anyway, tempted by expensive suits and diamond cufflinks. When he’s close enough, Kise holds on. "It’s good to see you again, Shougo-kun."

Haizaki tenses, ready to bark for security, when Kise laughs. Of all people Haizaki didn’t want to see him hit rock bottom, Kise is the cream of the crop.

"Don’t make a big deal out of it," Kise purrs, flips the menu on the table as if he’s looking, and his watch gleams in the light. "I’m here with a proposition."

They’re dangerous words, and he should flag down a fellow dancer, but after a moment he settles in and listens. Haizaki has always been in it for the money.


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AoHai prompt

Haizaki didn’t get it. He’d done nothing to deserve it. Not this week at least; he’d done the dishes on time and even shown up to most of his classes. Yet there he was, popcorn in hand to watch the latest iteration of Boobs and Guns II: the Boobening, and some asshole in a sombrero decided to sit in front of him.

Where did he even  _get_  a sombrero that big? Why? It didn’t even look  _cheap_.

“Can you  _move_?” Haizaki bit out, putting his coke and the freshly-opened pack of skittles on the empty seat next to him. The theatre was practically empty. He could have sat  _anywhere._ The man in front of him ignored him blithely, crunching loudly on m&ms. From the blue pack, with the crunchy center. Of course. “Hey, dickbag!  _ **Move**_.”

He finally looked up at Haizaki snapped at him, itching for a fight already.

“No way, man,” he shook his head and turned back to the screen, the previews bathing them both in light as one of them turned eye-searingly bright white. They had about another fifteen minutes of it.

“What do you  _mean_ , no way!? I’m not  _asking_  you! Move! You’re blocking the screen!”

“You’re noisy!”

“And you’re an asshole!”

Haizaki breathed in deeply, holding himself back from throwing a punch.

“Sit next to me then, and stop bitching. This is the best seat for the boobs in 3D,” the man in the sombrero insisted, moving his jacket to one of the other seats. After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed his stuff and moved. Best not to tempt fate.

“Commercials are boring as fuck,” he griped minutes after he sat down, forearms pressed together with the stranger’s; Aomine’s; and his feet propped up on the seat in front of him.

“Do you ever stop bitching?” Aomine griped back, putting his nachos down with an annoyed look. “What, do you wanna make out until the movie starts?”

It didn’t sound like a bad idea. He liked making out. It was warm and hot and got him all tingly and bothered and usually led to handjobs.

“Yeah,” he challenged, watching a grin spark on Aomine’s face. “But take off that dumb hat, first.”


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kiyohai

The guy in the suit and tie makes Haizaki think of his dad. Not appearance-wise or anything; he’d never seen his dad in anything close to a suit for the brief time he was around. Instead, everything about him harkened back to the conversations they’d had.

 _Boys like you_ , his dad had sneered, drink in hand and tv on behind him,  _you’re not just useless, but you don’t even like women. I guess there’s no chance of you breeding. The only thing you’ll be good for is finding a dirty rich man and beating him at his own game. Not like you’re good for much else_.

The guy didn’t have the dirty going for him, but he screamed flithy rich and gullible. Better off than interning at a primary school on the basis on the principle liking his pretty face and the kids being too young to think he was scary, at least. He had to stoop down a little to hold his kid’s hand when Seijuurou went tottering over to greet his dad.

“Where’s mom?” Haizaki raised both brows, unaware of his own words until they’d already slipped out of his mouth. He’d never really had to watch his mouth when he was just to getting paid for men to stuff it. The man frowned at him. He had strong eyebrows in a strong face with a solid jawline. Seijuurou hadn’t inherited any of it yet, save for the intense stare leveled at him.

“Mom left years ago,” Seijuurou informed him quietly. The kid always gave him the creeps in class, but he was loathe to tell the other kids he was the reason they didn’t do clay modelling anymore. It almost scared him off his plan, but he’d faced worse than a five year old with mental issues.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he forced out, not really as sorry as he could be. He almost envied those whose parents left instead of the ones that stuck around to make life miserable. “It must be difficult to manage on your own.”

He tilted his head to the side a slight, baring his neck and the expanse of pale skin. For the first time since sixteen, it was free from any kind of bruise or kissmark. He looked down and peeked up through his lashes, acting demurely for the hell of it. Guys like him (Kiyoshi, he guessed, if he had the same last name as Seijuurou) loved the damsel in distress, demure waif act. On purpose, he didn’t square his shoulders.

“If you need something, or you want to talk, I’m here…” make himself available, a shoulder to cry on, he praised himself. Then rejoiced at the bright smile and the big hand on his shoulder, and a bright thanks with a request for his number.

Later, at home, he grabbed a beer and celebrated. It was so  _easy_.

-

“Seijuurou has a sleepover. Would you like to come for dinner at my house tonight, by any chance?” Kiyoshi’s voice was slightly tinny over the phone, and held a hopeful note. Haizaki mentally ran through what he had in the house; he had disposable razors in the bathroom and some laundered, sexy underwear in the wardrobe. It would do.

“I’d love to,” he agreed, mind on money and an apartment where he didn’t suck cock as part of his rent in a shitty part of town.

-

And it turned out Kiyoshi wasn’t even really dumb, he was genuinely just  _nice_. He served them salmon and pasta slowly baked with soft cheese filled with herbs, lightly toasted ciabatta with a drizzle of olive oil on the side.

“Thanks for having me,” he looked away from the candles, pouting his lips in the way he’d learned made men want to fuck his mouth. “You must be lonely without a wife… I’m always lonely, too, I don’t have much family…”

He hated to bring up his past, but if Kiyoshi pried, he wasn’t above a sob story.

“Hmm,” Kiyoshi hummed, noncommittally, and kept a close eye on him over their plates. He seemed to be doing a lot of quiet watching. Maybe it meant he’d already fallen for Haizaki’s charms. He ripped at the ciabatta before speaking again. “What happened to your family?”

“Mom left,” Haizaki shrugged, for once not having to carefully fake the mixture between casualness and pain. “Dad stuck around for a while, but I wish he hadn’t. It was me and my brother until I moved out.”

Something sparked in Kiyoshi’s eyes, a curious kind of light that was gone before Haizaki could figure it out.

“I’m so sorry,” he said seemingly genuine, and moved on to other topics. Where did he live? What did he want to do? And why was he having dinner with an old man like Kiyoshi? His lips quirked to a smile at Haizaki’s anwer that he simply liked older men. The smile didn’t fade until they were done eating.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Kiyoshi held a hand out to him, tugging him up when he nodded. “There’s tv in the living room, or one in the bedroom. The one is the bedroom is bigger…”

 _Finally_. Haizaki suppressed a grin as he followed to the bedroom, noting the rich décor and the overabundance of books. They were quickly forgotten as he stripped off and climbed in first, confused as Kiyoshi played with the tv to call up a screen of movies, then turned back and quirked a brow at Haizaki’s lack of clothes.

“It’s impolite to wear clothes in bed,” he protested, teasing a laugh from Kiyoshi. As he stripped, Haizaki thanked the gods he was used to big things.

“Maybe you were just too eager,” Kiyoshi suggested as he climbed in, tugging Haizaki closer. “I’m a psychiatrist, you know.”

The information seemed irrelevant when Haizaki’s fingers were making their way up his thigh.

“I know boys like you,” Kiyoshi continued, the words quiet and close to his ear. “Dead-beat dad and all the issues that come with it.”

Haizaki tensed, rigid in the room’s odd atmosphere. Suddenly, Kiyoshi felt far more predatory.

“And what boys like you need, in my professional opinion,” Kiyoshi nipped at his neck, then his shoulder, and pushed him onto his back, hovering over him. “Is a firm hand and discipline.”

He smiled, almost gently, and it was more terrifying than anything Haizaki had seen in his life so far.

“So why don’t you tell me your true intentions, and I’ll be gentle in your punishment for manipulating me.”


End file.
